


No Church in The Wild

by lvscmine



Series: Become My Remedy [4]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: All the boys are fluffy nasty messes, Also daddy!tchalla in the most g-rated way possible, ChanxChal(???), DanixKu, Fluff, Gen, LeexRik, Other ships may be mentioned, There's a plot somewhere in all this Maury mess, When all the bullshet comes together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvscmine/pseuds/lvscmine
Summary: The Bride, The Trap, The Chronicle, their men, and the war on the horizon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back on my bullshit! Also, I'll be doing little one shots on the side in this universe that doesn't fit in this story. If you have any requests, you can comment in the story or hit me up on tumblr: http://kiillhunger.tumblr.com/ I might not be able to do ALL of them, but I'll do what I can. Hope y'all enjoy.

_“I promise I won’t tell, but you need to say something to him. Anything. Three years is late as hell, but it’s better than never.”_

When did Danielle become a guru?

Chanel had been home from Leah’s wedding for two days, and her friend’s words had been echoing in her head constantly. She knew Dani wasn’t wrong; it wasn’t as if she had no intention on telling T’Challa the truth. When she was pregnant, she had it in her mind that she’d call him and let him know what was up. Every single time she gathered the nerve to do so, something would convince her that he was better off not knowing. He was a married man and a leader of what was now the world’s most advanced and profitable cities—he had better things to do, the way she saw it. But she couldn’t just hold off the situation for too much longer.

Her daughter would be turning 3 soon, and it wouldn’t be long until she starts to become curious.

Hearing the school bus pull in front of her home, she suddenly heard the pitter patter of feet to wood floor; a small girl ran to the foyer, her shrill voice nearly squeaking. “Leon!” She yelled.

“Stop all that yelling, girl,” Chanel stood up before she approached the front door, unlocking and opening it to see the young boy stepping towards the door. “Hi, baby,” She leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

“Hi mama,” He said before sitting down his bookbag. “Hi Ava,” He pulled her up into his arms and carried the young girl to the living room as he always did.

“How was school?” Chanel picked up Leon’s bookbag before shutting the door, locking it behind her.

When she entered the living room again, Leon was sitting on the couch with his sister sitting next to him. “It was good. I got 100 on my spelling test,” He announced, and Chanel leaned back a bit, her eyebrows raising with a small smile.

“Is that right? Well good job, baby. I’m proud of you,” She walked to the couch before she took Ava and pulled the child into her lap. “Let’s keep up those good grades and get this homework done.”

The afternoon went as always—Leon did his homework, then he and Ava went to play in his room as Chanel put dinner together. After eating, Chanel checked Leon’s homework, then got the two ready for bed. The last of Chanel’s night was dedicated to doing some paper work, keeping an eye on the door to her bedroom in case Ava came to complain about a bad dream.

It was a little after midnight when she was clutching her cell phone, hands shaking and clammy. She let out a short sigh before attempting to dial the number she had known by heart despite deleting his contact years ago.

She took a deep breath as she heard the phone ring. Twice. Three times.

“Chanel?”

Her heart leapt in her throat at the sound of his voice, eyes rounding out to a wide surprise as she felt the familiar heat spread across her cheeks. Her fingertips were burning, her bones were rattling, a tornado seemed to twist in the bottom of her belly. “T’Challa,” She finally muttered the cause of her emotional calamity. “Hey. I would have figured you turned off your phone,” She let out a chuckle so nerved that it was uncharacteristic of her.

“I still need it for when I come to America,” He explained before the uncomfortable silence set in. He cleared his throat, and she suddenly felt foolish. Maybe if she hung up now, it would be fine. She wouldn’t have to tell him...she wouldn’t have to betray him. “How are you? Is everything okay?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah! Everything’s good...kinda,” She sighed softly. “Are you going to be in D.C. anytime soon? I need to talk with you about some things,” Her explanation was vague and she knew it. However, there was no way she’d tell him about Ava over the phone, for it would add more insult to injury.

“Well,” She heard some rustling in the background. “I have a charity event to attend to in New York with Stark Enterprises next week, but I can make a stop by you before I go there,” He paused, and she cringed at the concern in his tone: “Are you sure everything is okay, Chanel?” He asked.

Chanel bit at the corner of her lip before she sighed, staring down at her nails. “No. It’s not alright.”

* * *

 

It would be four days before Chanel would be in the corner booth of a soul food restaurant, waiting for the Wakandan King to make his appearance. Her pastel pink top seemed to stick to her skin due to the summer weather, and not even the ceiling fans within the aged establishment would bring her relief. She wasn’t sure if it was the summertime or her nerves that was making her feel heat from the inside out.

She had been out of T’Challa’s radar for three years now: three long, agonizing years.

It was hard not to see what he had been up to—he seemed to be everywhere nowadays, from the Outreach Centers that he had built in Brooklyn and in Oakland, trading opportunities with other world superpowers, and the continuous circuit of college studying programs, he was the lips of every news outlet and social media blog that could be found. His wedding was a two-day long marathon on CNN, and the details of extravagant affair was aired on E! Network so many times that Chanel now knew that he used almost a million dollars on the flowers alone. She knew that undiscovered black fashion designers were flown into Wakanda to design the entire wedding party’s attire, including the bride. She hated knowing what she didn’t need to, but it became something like a ritual for her. She didn’t need to know, but she wanted to. She was obsessed with it without knowing it. Now she knew he was happy...maybe even happier than he ever was before.

Feelings were bullshit. They were only created to hurt people from the inside out.

Chanel knew that somewhere within their tryst were seedlings of feelings that shouldn’t have been sown in the first place, watered by the King’s tenderness. The last time he fulfilled the benefits she earned, she was moved to tears. It wasn’t just because she was losing that benefit, but what she gained from it figuratively and eventually, literally. Chanel would never regret having Ava, but would always regret the baggage she carried around because she was too proud—and maybe even too intimidated—to admit that she had a deep, hopeless love for her friend. Even now as she waited over a half-drunk cup of tea, butterflies filled her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

“Chanel,” Her gaze snapped upwards, and she furrowed her eyebrows at the clean-cut ‘casual’ fit that T’Challa had on. His polo and slacks were his go-to for everyday wear, so she wasn’t surprised; however, it was second nature to tense up when she saw him wearing a belt. Nostalgia was getting the best of her, and she had to remind herself why she was here.

“Hey,” She stood to her feet and they shared a hug. T’Challa’s grip tightened the moment he got her hands on her, and she wanted to cry again. He still felt as warm as the last time she held onto him, as if she was feeling the essence of summer within him. “How are you?” She forced herself out of his arms, noting his usual entourage of Okoye and Ayo, who sat a couple tables away in their Americanized outfits.

“I am well,” They both sat in the booth together, and Chanel tried to calm her tense body. “How about you? You sounded troubled when you called me,” He was trying his best to keep the conversation simple, but she could tell that he was genuinely worried about her.

“Well, yeah,” She waved her hand slightly before she grabbed the handle of her small mug, taking another swig of the now lukewarm tea, the notes of lemon and honey lingering on her taste buds. “It’s been a lot going on,” She said.

“I would assume so, with all you have to do every day,” T’Challa looked to the waitress as she approached the table, ordering a glass of water and a bowl of lemons before his attention averted back to Chanel. “It is nice that you called,” His sincerity was almost sickening. Chanel was so close to bailing and deciding not to tell him. This would break his heart.

“It was nice to hear from you,” She tapped her nail against the mug before she licked over her lips gently. Okay, she brought him all the way here—it was time to say it. “But I did say I wanted to speak with you. And it’s something important,” She gulped.

“What is it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I... I was pregnant,” She suddenly felt dry at the throat, and she swallowed harshly as she noticed that his facial expression didn’t change. “She’s almost three,” She elaborated, but only briefly.

“Alright,” He said, drawing out the syllables to emphasize his confusion. Chanel’s eyes began to water, and she looked down at her lap. “Chanel,” His voice softened.

“It’s yours, T’Challa.”

Nobody heard her confession but him, but it almost felt as if time around them had stopped. The male’s face seemed to soften completely, eyes round and wide as his bottom lip quivered gently. He bit into his bottom lip to suppress whatever he wanted to say, and he nodded before the water and lemon slices were brought to the table. He managed a thankful word to the waitress and began to squeeze lemon slices into the water. One after the other, the slices were squeezed just a bit too harshly.

“’Chal—”

“Do not call me that,” He demanded, and Chanel instantly shrunk back against the soft cushion of the booth’s seat. He took a sip of the water before he sat it next to him and his eyes, once dancing with a warm dazzle, were now abysmal. She had never seen him this upset...with anyone, really. “You mean to tell me that you have been keeping this from me? Why?” He didn’t speak above his usual soft tone, but his fists were pressed to the tabletop, tightening to the point that the prints of his knuckle bones were more prominent. The edge in his voice was another clear sign that she had caused torrent in usually placid waters.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Chanel began to apologize. “But—”

“ _Sorry_ is for being late for an affair,” T’Challa’s tone tightened, and Chanel could no longer look at this man try not to explode. “ _Sorry_ is for bumping into someone, or forgetting something you meant to bring somewhere. You kept our child from me, Chanel, and a measly _sorry_ is all you’ve got to offer me? But please, continue! How else do you plan to spit upon me?” He sneered.

“T’Challa,” She sighed before she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not going to act like what I did was right, not even a lil’ bit. But what I don’t want right now is to beef with you about this. I realized that Ava needs her father,” It hurt, but her goal wasn’t about her, it was about her daughter and the relationship she needed with T’Challa.

The man got up from the booth before he glanced down at his watch. “I will be back in two days from New York,” He said simply, and he walked out faster than his guards could catch up with him.

* * *

 

The Stark Enterprises yearly charity affair was being held in the end of the summer this time around—the Hamptons was the location this year. While most of the upper crust of America were all invited in Tony’s spacious mansion for a weekend of leisure under the guise of philanthropy, it was usually a cover-up for more pressing matters. T’Challa’s other calling seemed to have been quiet, and he was hoping that there wasn’t anything new to report.

Sadly, his mind wasn’t completely on work.

He had given a generous fund of money for the sake of being charitable, but had spent most of the first evening in the room. His mind was stuck on the news he had been given hours ago. T’Challa was uncertain of his emotions; there was anger, the disappointment, the devastation, and the confusion. His mind instantly thought over the last time he and Chanel hooked up, and he instantly felt tired at the thought. He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to fuck up. Now, he had a child to care for and a family to explain the situation to.

Three knocks at the door caused T’Challa to look up from the view of his palms, and he sighed before he stood to his feet. “Come in,” He quickly crossed his arms, his tension only easing slightly when Okoye entered the room. “General,” He greeted.

“They’re convening for dinner, my King,” She informed. “Are you coming down?” She asked.

“I’m not hungry,” He said, and she raised an eyebrow before she nodded.

Silence went on between them for a moment before Okoye cleared her throat. “What happened, T’Challa?” It was rare that she called him by his name. It was her way of opening herself up to him for conversation as friends, rather as a King and his General.

“She was pregnant,” He whispered, and Okoye let out an unintentional gasp.

“How old is she?”

“She’s almost Three.”

Okoye’s lips parted slightly before she pressed them together, shaking her head. The reaction was indescribable—T’Challa wasn’t sure if her reaction was annoyance, disappointment, or something else. “Bast,” She huffed loudly before she placed a hand on her hip. “What do you plan to do?” She asked.

“I will do what is right. I have to care for her,” T’Challa was pacing the room now, running a hand over the top of his head. “That is not my problem,” He groaned.

“Right,” Okoye agreed, and she slid her hands over the skirt of the dress she had on—another attempt at blending in with the Americans. “It was before your marriage. I would hope Nakia would understand,” She said, trying her best to sound hopeful.

They both knew that wasn’t true, however.

So, T’Challa thought of ways he could smooth the situation over, even as he tried to manage to play his role in New York. He thought about it as he talked over politics and rubbed elbows with rich and stuffy individuals, and he thought about it as he aimlessly dismissed any passive aggressive flirt that came his way. He thought about it as he packed his bags to return to Washington D.C.

Then, he grew anxious at knowing he had to see Chanel again.

Leaving her behind was a necessary sacrifice that pained T’Challa more than he wanted it to. He left his heart in her bed, and that haunted him for a year and a half, even as he stood by Nakia’s side and planned out their wedding and the rest of their lives together. He could still smell the scent of her skin, and taste the salt of their shared tears. When he closed his eyes to sleep, he could sometimes still hear her heartbeat from the nights he laid his head on her chest, allowing her clawed nails to rake through his scalp and lull him to sleep. He didn’t mean to fall for her. That wasn’t supposed to be the plan.

Initially, they were friends who seemed to always try to get the better of one another through playful jokes, something that T’Challa would have never known she had in her if he had never gotten to know her. Chanel was something like a candy with a surprise center; she was the type of girl that seemed unapproachable at surface level, intimidating and almost stuck-up. Upon investigation, Chanel was goofy and loved a good laugh, no matter how bad or corny the joke was. She had a huge heart to match that huge temper, and her mouth was so uncensored that even sailors would blush at her vernacular. She was most things that T’Challa wasn’t raised to be, and that’s what he liked so much about her. That’s what made her the friend he looked forward to talking to after her study group broke from lecture: the bright smile he hoped to see while walking the hallways of his palace when school was out.

The girl was boisterous—much more than most of the girls in the group—and that was probably why she even decided to strike a conversation with T’Challa to begin with. _Everyone fears you,_ is what she used to tease him with. He tried his best to be open and kind to what seemed to be innocent American students studying abroad, but those people and their obsessive reverence to those of higher status kept most at bay. All except for Chanel, who seemed to be unfazed by the fact that she was surrounded by royalty. Her weird sense of charm got to him quickly, and it was like a fire and ice meeting that caused steam that they didn’t mind parlaying in.

The flirting didn’t quite come until later down the line; an innocent comment on her sweater during the cooler season led her to say that he looked good in everything, ‘and probably nothing.’ She apologized for it on the spot and although T’Challa forgave what he felt was probably a Freudian Slip, it opened the door for harmless comments that for the most part, went over everyone’s heads. Friendly prank wars became conversations through text messages on Kimoyo Beads, or long tutorials of card games like Spades in his throne room. Even when she had to return to America, they made effort to stay in touch and talk through his ‘business’ phone. He would tell her about his day, good or bad, and she’d tell him hers. They’d speak as if she had never left Wakanda, and sometimes he fell asleep to the sounds of her cooking breakfast, humming a simple song to be used as a lullaby.

She just...made him feel normal. Like a person, not just a king.

That was why he cherished her so much.

That was he was so fucking angry with her.

Of all the things that Chanel could have decided to keep from him, why would _this_ be it? Given, the situation they had entered in some time back was bound to have some repercussions and it did, even if his daughter wasn’t a factor. The bottom line was that they had caught feelings when they weren’t supposed to, and that was already something that had messed T’Challa up mentally. Now, he was bound to Chanel forever through a child he was somewhat robbed of. He had told Chanel everything about his life, the good and the bad. He’d never keep a secret from her. So, what gave her the right to do this to him? Maybe he was being selfish for thinking that way, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Nearly three years without his child...

By the time he was back in front of Chanel’s doorstep, a fire had been lit under his ass.

The front door opened, and he nearly wanted to scream in agony. There went the beautiful liar, make-up free, toenails drying from being freshly painted, and her short and natural curls only adding to her striking yet soft features. She looked so beautiful, and it made him even angrier with her. She silently let him into the house, and his stride was swift and harsh as he walked past her. “Are they home?”

“No. I’ve gotta pick up Ava from daycare in 30 minutes, though—so say what you need to say,” Chanel seemed defensive. Naturally, nobody wants to be scolded, but T’Challa was so pissed off that it only made him angrier.

“You know what sets me off the most about this?” He paced the room before he turned to face her. “I have trusted you with nearly everything about me. _Everything,_ Chanel, and you have the audacity to do this to me? I fail to understand it,” He scolded.

“If you think I did it to spite you, that ain’t it,” Chanel crossed her arms over her chest. “I was trying to come to terms with it.”

“For _three years_?!” T’Challa placed his hands on his head and stopped moving. _It’s okay, T’Challa. Close your eyes. Count to Ten._ “I am still lost—what is there to come to terms with?” He asked.

“The fact that you are a leader of the world’s most profitable country, and that suddenly having a child is going to raise questions, or maybe the fact that you’re married to another woman,” Chanel furrowed her eyebrows before she sucked her teeth. “Like, don’t try to sit here and act like this shit isn’t a sticky situation all around. I did what was best for you, for me, and for our kid—for my children,” She defended. “I should have told you sooner, but I promise that it wouldn’t have been any harder now than it was back then,” Her argument was sound, but still...

“You should have let me decide how hard it was going to be for me, then. I helped you make this child, so I should have a say in my place in her life,” T’Challa’s mouth flattened a bit before it turned into a sorrowful frown. “You cannot believe that I would just leave you with that job alone...would you? Do you think that lowly of me?”

“No,” Chanel sighed softly before she shook her head. “I don’t. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you...I just—”

“Mama! I’m home!”

The voice shot through as soon as the front door opened, and T’Challa looked over Chanel’s shoulder to see her son—Leon had to have been 7 or so by now, and he looked the part. He was taller and still as lean as ever, his dreads almost down past his elbows. “They let you out of school early...shit, I forgot,” Chanel hurried towards the front door before giving Leon a hug.

“It’s okay, I caught the bus since there was no pract—...Mr. T’Challa?” Leon furrowed his brows, and his confused expression turned into pure joy, instantly running towards the male. “Hey! Remember me?”

“I sure do,” T’Challa tried to quell off the anger he felt to properly embrace Leon—he didn’t want the child to feel the tension. “You’ve gotten so big! How are you?” He asked.

“I’m good! How long are you staying?” He asked, a glint of hope written in his expression.

“Probably just a couple of days,” T’Challa had plans to at least spend some time with Ava before he returned home.

“Cool! Can he stay for dinner, mama? Please? I gotta show him my car collection,” Leon’s pleas fell upon Chanel’s tired ears, and she let out a sigh as she looked from her son, to her daughter’s father.

“Sure, why not? You guys can stay and play while I go pick up Ava,” She said.

“Oh, snap!” Leon turned to T’Challa with a big grin. “I got a lil’ sister, now. You wanna meet her? We can all go pick her up,” The child had no idea he was setting up what would be the most awkward of situations.

“Uhm...” T’Challa hummed before he looked to Chanel.

Chanel simply sighed. “Uh, sure...come on. The ride to daycare isn’t too far away.”

* * *

 

The daycare center wasn’t too far removed from stereotypical ones strewn about across the country. Stair Steppers Academy was a privately-owned ‘jump start program’ type of day care center for kids that weren’t old enough for pre-school, but had parents who wanted them to be ‘ahead of the curve’ by the time they did. Obviously, Chanel had big plans for Ava to already be in something that seemed almost prestigious. The school had a well-planned and organized study program specifically designed to toddlers, and loosely based their days around a regular American school schedule. T’Challa got all the information in a couple Google searches, along with the 17 education accolades and honors the center had received in its 3-year run. The center was also owned by two black women: a fact that gave the King a swelling sense of pride.

Upon arriving at the center, Chanel parked in the front before she grabbed her wallet and unlocked the door. “I’ll be back. Come on Leon,” The pattern must have been that Leon and Chanel usually got Ava together.

T’Challa was left in the passenger seat of Chanel’s BMW sedan, alone with his thoughts and the 90’s Rhythm and Blues that was playing on the radio—at least, until his Kimoyo Beads began to vibrate against his wrist.

He turned down the music and gently ran his fingers over the beads, Nakia’s top-half materializing before him in projected form. “Just checking on you,” She didn’t seem to be speaking to him for business purposes, so he brandished an easy-going smile.

“I am well. I will be home in three days,” He announced, trying not to panic at the slight concern on her face.

“That’s longer than we first agreed upon. Is everything okay? Nothing has gone wrong, has it?” She asked.

“N-No! No, all is well for now. However, we do need to discuss something important when I return home, okay?” He said, and glanced up quickly, eying the entrance for any sign of Chanel.

“Alright then,” Nakia’s tone sounded suspicious—rightfully so. “Be careful out there, my King.”

“You do the same, my love,” He glanced back at Nakia’s likeness, smiling again once she did. Once the connection dispersed, he let out a small sigh before he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest of the seat.

Suddenly, the car door opened behind him.

“Come on, get in here.”

“Okay.”

“Can I have one?”

“No. Mine.”

“Leon, you’ve got snacks at home. Let Ava have her things.”

T’Challa was afraid to look back. Her little voice, so soft and angelic, pulled at every string his heart could even think to come up with. He hadn’t even looked at her directly yet, and he just knew she was precious. He didn’t look at the backseat until they got back to Chanel’s house, and even as he watched the family of three go through their usual routine, he felt out of place and went out of his way to not really look upon the child. He wanted the right time, the right moment, to be introduced to her. He got that chance once the kids were done with homework and went off to play.

“You look scared,” Chanel and T’Challa were standing at the doorway into Ava’s bedroom, and the King looked to his friend, searching for answers within her gaze. “There’s no need to be. She knows who you are, somewhat. She knows you exist,” She shrugged.

He bit into the corner of his lip before he glanced at the young girl, who was too wrapped in her own world to notice her parents. Dolls in each hand, she went on about saving a house from a fire. She stood up to her feet and ran around the room, loud imitation of a fire engine’s wail included in the spectacle.

T’Challa took a step into the pale purple and white paradise, and he instantly tried to shrink his presence among the dolls, stuffed animals, crayon art, and development books that lined homemade bookshelves. He took off his shoes and sat them by the door, allowing himself to feel the soft carpet, even with the thin socks he had on.

“Hi.”

He raised his eyebrows when he finally made eye contact with his daughter, and his chest tightened as he took her in. Her eyes were big, soft and round, just like his. The hair on her head was one large, coarse yet soft looking puff, and her edges were carefully slicked on her head—most likely, due to her mother’s doing. Her skin was some shades lighter than his, but she was surely darker than her mother; in fact, her deep brown skin reminded him of his cousin. Aside from it, however, she was just a feminine version of himself—as if he had made the baby alone.

That was, until she smiled. She had her mother’s beautiful, gracious smile. The same smile that made T’Challa felt like the world didn’t matter when she was around. “I’m Ava.”

“I know,” T’Challa’s voice came out as a choke. “I... I am your father,” He gasped, as if it had all finally set in for him.

“...Daddy?” She raised her eyebrows, and he nodded as he lowered himself to his knees. She gasped and she jumped up and down before laughing, falling into his arms in what was the warmest hug he had ever received. Tears spilled from his eyes, and he cradled her in his arms. “Hi, daddy! Here!” She pulled away before she ran over to her doll collection, picking up a doll before she ran back to him, holding it out towards him. He quickly wiped his face, drying his hands against his slacks before he took the doll.

“What are we playing, dear?” He asked.

“Firefighter,” She answered. “You on fire.”

“Oh?” T’Challa let out a small laugh before he cleared his throat. “Oh no! My house is on fire!” He feigned being hurt. “What will I do? Oh no!”

“I save you! Here I come, hold on,” Ava picked up another doll before she ran around T’Challa, making the siren’s noise again.

T’Challa watched his princess in awe. She was really his.

Sunshine before the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leah and Danielle's lives as queens. Also, you ARE the father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody order the angst?

“Do we really need this?” Leah gently pressed her chin against her palm as she watched the younger woman sit at her desk, looking between computer monitors. The large office was one of many in the senate hall—in every office, employees were hard at work with Ajé’s constant development. Some were in constant communication with law enforcement around the large island; some were in contact with the trading officials down at the docks; others were further developing the education system; and, others were holding interviews with potential historians.

Somewhere within the building, Erik was fulfilling duties, putting his hand in whatever pot he could. As for Leah, she was being bogged down with the task of...social media accounts.

Why did _she_ have to be the nice one of the two of them?

Iris was a Texas Southern University graduate, and the stereotypical millennial that went to school to be good at social media. Hair as blue as the ocean, hazel eyes that struck like lightning, and cocoa-kissed skin, she was the manic pixie dream girl most American boys fell in love with. “Unfortunately. We’re in the digital age, and from these polls I’ve drawn up, you and Erik are hot shit right now,” Iris raised an eyebrow as she adjusted the rectangular frames on her rounded face. “People want to know what’s going on with you and with this country, and this will be the way to do it,” She typed some keys into one of the keyboards before her, then swiveled the monitor around.

Leah glanced up and noticed the open internet tab, noting the open twitter tab. “The hashtag named ‘That Dress’ has been trending in America for the last four days. That’s just from your wedding dress, your highness,” She explained as Leah read over some of the tweets, noticing how some people said that they’d allow Leah to step on their necks with her heels, or how she and Erik were their parents, now. Maybe Leah didn’t use social media enough when she wasn’t relevant enough for comments like this, but now—

“Oh shit, Beyoncé reposted the photo of my dress on Instagram?”

“Her, Zendaya, Yara Shabidi, Janelle Monae—yeah, it’s a big fucking deal, pardon my French,” Iris chuckled softly. “Someone also made a Erik Stevens Lookbook page two days ago, too. Like I said...big deal,” She turned the monitor back around before she began to type again. The door opened and the two women looked back towards the large double doors, the room suddenly scented with forested cologne. “Good afternoon, my king,” Iris greeted.

“Iris,” Erik greeted, gracing Leah with a kiss to the forehead. “You got them accounts ready?” He asked.

“Yep. Here’s the usernames and passwords for both of you, along with the usernames and passwords for the general account for the country at large,” She handed slips of paper to the king and queen. “I’m sure you guys know the do’s and don’ts of social media—don’t engage with trolls, watch your language, and don’t send anything to anyone or post anything that you wouldn’t want to see on a blog,” Iris’s eyes were back on her computers, as if she had never looked away from them.

“Damn, it’s that bad?” Leah had to remember that Erik didn’t really mess around with social media. Between military obligation and personal missions, he had to stay somewhat concealed.

“It can get that bad, yeah. People can take anything and flip it to make it look terrible. As a country just starting out and the way you’re starting out after breaking off from Wakanda, we’ve gotta be on our P’s and Q’s,” Iris explained.

* * *

 

Leah was certain that the video of Erik sitting in a meeting with his hand on the bulge in his slacks was the exact thing Iris told them not to do.

It had been two days, _two fucking days_ , since the two had made their official break into the social media world, and the foolishness that Leah had to witness already was beyond her comprehension. She had millions of followers within hours, tons of DMs of men shooting their shot (that she could never show Erik unless she wanted World War III to commence without fail), and several SoundCloud rappers already using her infamous Louboutin heels that she wore in her wedding as punchlines in their songs. She watched men and women fawn over her husband, and while she didn’t find herself insecure or upset at it, it was the DM between she and Erik that caused her the most stress.

 _Lil’ bitches love the shit out of me_ , he’d say as he sent her fan art of him. That was the first day.

Then, Leah posted a simple selfie the next day. Huge mistake.

Men were all up and through her comments with heart-eyed or water droplet emojis, and Erik came quickly into her direct message with the jokes that had her in stitches.

_This nigga missing teeth in the front. I know he not trying to holla._

_I know this nigga got kids he don’t care for._

_He look like he smell like foreclosure._

_He just a fucking bum. Just block him for even thinking about shooting for you._

It went from jealousy to flirtation.

_When you get that sundress, though?_

_You know I love pink on you, baby._

_You ain’t wear panties under that shit, did you?_

_I could eat your ass up._

Now, Leah was staring at the privately sent video of him disinterestedly speaking to one of his associates, his phone somehow hidden from view and pointed towards the slight print of his length through his slacks. He squeezed it as someone made a joke, and he chuckled. However, he wasn’t laughing at the joke, not with that bass in his voice. He was laughing for her. _At_ her, because he knew what he was doing to her.

Now she was sitting in her own meeting, feeling like the room was on fire and frowning slightly before she flipped her phone on its face.

“...So, I was thinking of doing some research on standardized testing and designing something better for the school systems here,” Leah glanced up across the long table, looking at the presentation that one of the councilmembers of the education unit were giving. “We’ll test children going into school, then devise school career systems based on learning styles and abilities instead of treating all the kids the same,” She said.

“But, wouldn’t that cause more division?” One of the councilmembers argued, and Leah listened quietly before she tapped her nail against the top of the table. “While catering to the children’s learning styles and possible ailments is important, most kids want to feel accepted. This may cause elitism amongst the children,” He commented.

“That is where our efforts to teach diversity sensitivity and our anti-bully initiative comes in,” The woman countered before she turned to face Leah with a confident smile. “What do you think, my Queen?”

“I believe the testing is a good idea. However, be careful in trying to cater to every learning niche—you can’t please everybody,” Leah couldn’t get Erik’s laugh out of her head, and she could feel the annoying pressure at the bridge of her nose. “Also, we’re gonna want to be mindful of how kids think. We see it as ‘celebrating diversity;’ they might not see it that way at first. Both of you come together and try to find a compromise,” She said.

Suddenly, the doors opened, and Leah sunk in her chair slightly. “My Queen, the King requests your presence in his office,” It was Erik’s personal advisor, and he sounded winded. “He says it’s urgent.”

The woman stood to her feet with a roll of her eyes before she placed her hands on her hips. “I guess,” She mumbled with a deep sigh. ‘Urgent’ her ass. “I’m on my way. Thank you, Roland,” She looked over her shoulder at the short man, giving him a gracious smile as a silent command to calm down. Grabbing her phone, she pointed between the two councilmembers. “Figure out a solution. This meeting’s adjourned—I’m going to be gone a while,” She walked out of the office, seeing two officers waiting to escort her through the building.

Leah was pretty popular amongst the council; she made a point to be around and be active in how the country was being ran. She was new at the whole ‘being queen’ thing, so she was trying her best to do what she felt was right. It seemed like a common-sense thing to do right by the people she and her husband ruled, but it was the intricacies of balancing the country’s well-being and her husband’s stability that sometimes made her feel like the world was on her shoulders. That’s why it was nice to see everyone working so hard to help towards the cause; the help made it easy for her to be endearing towards everyone, and they gravitated towards that.

Once Leah reached the office, she waved at the guards that stood by the door. “How’s he acting?” She asked.

“He looks a little antsy,” One of the guards murmured.

Leah placed a hand on her hip before she nodded. “Got it. Nobody comes in unless it’s important,” She ordered.

“Of course, my Queen,” The guards said in unison.

Leah stepped into the office before she shut the door behind her, looking towards the scene before her with an amused scoff. Almost like a museum exhibit, African artifacts lined the dark and wooden walls of the office, along with metal bookshelves, lined with books and more trinkets. In front of the large window that overlooked the main parts of town below them, Erik sat at his desk, sifting through papers and looking particularly bored and anxious all at once. She could read him like a book; no matter how stoic he tried to portray himself, he was itching for her. “Did you need me?” Her voice was mocking as she crossed her arms over her chest.

As she strolled closer to the desk, she watched the man raise his head to meet eyes with her, the wicked glint in his dark eyes causing her giggle to echo through the broad study chamber. She couldn’t deny that he looked particularly handsome at the moment, from the freshly braided hair, to the luxurious royal tunic that he usually donned when he came to work. “You know I did,” He rasped, and she managed to ignore the hazy ache between her thighs. “C’mere, baby.”

Leah kept an eye on him as he pulled back from his desk, playfully rolling her eyes when Erik pulled her down and onto his lap. “ _Urgent_ , hm? Any excuse to get me out of work,” Her complain fell upon deaf ears, and she sighed pleasurably when she felt soft lips against her neck. “Are you listening to me, nigga?” She sucked her teeth.

“I’m listenin’,” He insisted, pulling away before giving her a small smile. “I missed you today, so I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?” His voice was almost a mocking type of comfort, and Leah had the mind to elbow him in his stomach. “Plus, you been working so hard, you know. Being a badass queen and everything,” Their laughs mingled for a moment as Leah leaned back against his chest.

“You full of shit. You want some pussy,” She accused.

“I want that, too. But I was trying to be romantic about this shit, damn,” Leah sucked her teeth, pressing her lips together as she felt his hand grip at her thigh. “Why you actin’ up, huh? We got a lil’ time. Gimmie some,” His breath tickled warmly against her neck, the hint of spearmint causing her eyes to close slowly.

“Boy,” She warned.

He chuckled gently. “Girl.”

“Stop!” She laughed into his mouth as he kissed her. His hand gently cradled her cheek, closing her eyes as his lips brushed hers, slowly and with a delicate passion. A semi-defiant moan vibrated in her throat when she felt his tongue brush against her lips, and soon, the taste of spearmint was within her mouth, too. His hands were already working on raising the skirt of her sundress, his warm palms against her thighs causing her earlier protests to dissipate. “Mm...you think you can get something quick in?” She mumbled once her husband came up for air.

“I don’t do quick,” Erik laced the woman with another kiss, a little more chaste this time. “But I’ll try, for you.”

“My King! I—” The door had burst open, and there was Roland again, sweating and looking as if a ghost had come to visit him.

Erik’s whole demeanor changed; the previously relaxed man tensed under Leah, and she bit her lip in sympathy at whatever rage Roland was about to kid. “Somebody better be fucking dying,” He growled.

“The King of Wakanda is on the phone,” Roland trembled. “He wishes to speak with you both.”

“Tell him I’m busy,” Erik dismissed.

“He’s in _tears,_ my King. He begs for you,” Roland insisted.

Leah’s face fell a bit. T’Challa...in tears? Yes, he was a man in touch with his emotions, but him to be crying and begging to talk to Erik spelled red flags for Leah. “Bring the phone,” Leah responded.

“Baby—” Leah sent Erik a look that caused him to stop talking.

Roland brought Leah the phone with a shaking hand, and she sent him another calming smile before pressing the phone to her ear. “T’Challa?” She answered.

“Leah,” The tears in the man’s voice instantly sobered Leah up. “Is N’Jadaka with you?” He asked.

“He’s here,” Leah frowned as she leaned against Erik, ignoring the man’s irritated mumbles. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to speak to him,” T’Challa sniffed softly. “May I please speak to him?” He asked.

Leah’s face fell, and she sighed before she sat up a bit. “Yeah, hold on, T. Baby, talk to him,” Leah held the phone up to Erik, who snarled at the device. “Please,” She urged.

Erik’s eyes met his wife’s, and they held a silent contest for a couple of seconds. Leah knew that despite the ‘peace’ kept between the two kings, Erik would always have a bit of a problem with T’Challa for obvious reasons. Erik had no intention or want to be close with his family, but considering that it was Leah’s family as well now, she often won the argument of connections with them. Eventually, Erik let out a harsh sigh of defeat before he took the device from her and pressed it to his ear. “What?” He spat, then he paused for a moment. “Wait a minute, slow down, what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, and Leah watched Erik’s expression change into something...indescribable. Not happy, not sad, not angry, not...anything. “Okay. Yea’. A’ight,” He hung up, and looked at Roland. “Roland, go set up travel plans for Wakanda. We’ll be leaving in three days,” He ordered.

“Yes, my King,” Roland took the phone and was gone like a light.

“Come on, we need to pack and prepare.” Erik tapped Leah’s thigh for her to stand up, and the woman looked confounded as she watched her man move with a purpose that had not ever been seen before.

“What happened?” Leah watched Erik’s retreating figure, trying not to break into a full run just to catch up with him.

“I feel like my _dear_ cousin has done something incredibly stupid, that’s what happened,” The Ajéan King mumbled.

* * *

 

“Bring them in, please.”

The throne room seemed a little less heavy today; the large wooden throne was not occupied by the usually imposing leader, but by his more subdued mate. She crossed one leather-laced leg over the other as she looked to the table on the side of her—herbs laid across the table neatly, along with grinders and bowls for proper mixing, just in case she needed it. It was a part of her time with her people.

Watching a family of three come into the throne room, she tilted her head slowly as she noticed the exhausted looking boy that stood in front of his mother and father. “He’s been so sick, my lady. He has been coughing and cannot seem to keep up with the other children,” The man spoke, and the boy’s mother gently nudged him forward.

While most children loved their leader, they seemed to adore his wife. So, the boy all but ran to the woman, his eyes big despite him seeming so tired. “You’re gonna make me better?” He asked.

“Of course,” She smiled widely before she looked him over, running a hand over his soft curls. “Let’s see what we can do,” She snapped her fingers quickly, and two guards moved the table in front of her before she muttered quietly to herself. “Hm...” An herb here, a spice there...a little cool water from the stream...mix well, and— “There! Come here,” She chuckled when the boy sat upon her lap, and she passed him the dish of thickened liquid. “Drink it all,” She quietly watched as he did his best to down the herbal tonic, licking over his lips before he grinned.

“Thank you, my Lady,” He hugged her, and she couldn’t fight the warm and fuzzy feeling she felt within. The guards chuckled softly as the boy went back to his parents, and the Queen gave a goofy grin.

“Make sure he gets some rest, and a lot more liquids. And I mean it, _rest._ That means no playing out in the cold with the kids,” She pointed at the boy, giving him a knowing grin. “That should do it.”

“Thank you, my Lady. Your grace never ceases to uplift us,” The mother bowed her head in reverence.

“And your loyalty uplifts me,” She smiled, watching them step out of the room. She yawned before she glanced towards the view over her shoulder. “It’s almost lunch, huh? We should go eat, boys,” She stood up before dusting off her outfit, letting out a slow breath. “Let’s go. I know y’all hungry!”

Danielle Shehu was pretty good at being a leader of her people, it seemed.

It had been almost three years since she had decided to take M’Baku’s hand and had assumed the position as co-leader of the Jabari Tribe. Being a queen of sorts wasn’t anything to scoff at, nor was being a shaman in training, but Danielle did what she could to step up and take on the role that she was given. She was a relief for Wakandan Counsel; they felt that there was finally a ‘sound mind’ leading the tribe, so she was often in the mainland to deal with what M’Baku refused to. However, it was being with the people in her tribe that she loved the most. Walking through the settlement and being able to be one with people who she connected with most made her feel the most alive. It was the only thing that could rival the happiness in her marriage.

Upon arriving in the dining room, she glanced over the large man sitting at the table, a plate of food being placed before him by one of the palace servants. She tried not to grin so harshly as she approached the table, sliding her hands behind her back before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Hello, ‘Ku,” She cooed.

“Hello, my sunshine,” The big man grinned as goofily as ever, his eyes chinking a bit. “How has your morning been? Busy, I assume,” As always, she ended up on his lap, being fed some of his fruit.

“Yes. A lot of people came to see me today, whether for advice, medicine, or general conversation,” She explained, stuffing pieces of grape in her cheek before she began to chew.

M’Baku hummed in approval before he swallowed the forkful of egg he was chewing on. “As I would expect. Your people adore you,” He smirked before he leaned to press his lips to her cheek. “Are we still due for our afternoon walk?” It wasn’t unusual for him to confirm their plans, but Danielle had become good at reading her husband—not that he was too hard to read.

“Yes,” She nodded before a servant brought her a plate of food, and she uttered a small word of thanks before she started on her food.

After lunch, the couple went out on their usual rounds around the settlement, giving themselves a chance to get some fresh air, be with their people, and spend some time together. It wasn’t until they got to their usual walking route by the river that M’Baku seemed to be a bit more pensive. Usually, he was a chatterbox as he would excitedly spill to Danielle the details of morning training with his soldiers, or he’d give her tidbits about rumors he had heard around the palace. Today, though, he was quiet and eyeing the river and the land beyond it.

“What’s wrong, ‘Ku?” She squeezed his arm, craning her neck a bit to meet his gaze. “You’re really quiet today,” She mumbled.

“Nothing is wrong,” He said. “I was only thinking...our third anniversary will be soon upon us,” He mused, and she nodded in agreement. “I want to do something special to celebrate the happiest day of our lives so far,” The admittance made Danielle smile.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter what we do,” She shrugged. “I’m happy with you every day, M’Baku,” She squealed, letting out a fit of giggles as she felt him pick her up off the ground.

M’Baku growled playfully as he nipped her cheek, chuckling against her skin. “And I am always happy with you, my dear. But that is a special day—there is nothing wrong with a bit of fanfare for my queen,” She wrapped her legs around his torso, one arm draping over his shoulder as his hands planted against the underside of her thighs.

“Well, what do you wanna do, baby?” She used her other hand to rake her nails through his scruff, watching his eyes slowly close.

“Well, that is what my mind fails to come up with. I want it to be something memorable, but I have yet to come up with a solid idea,” He muttered, quiet groans laced throughout the spoken thought.

“You’ll come up with something. Just remember not to overthink it, buddy,” She kissed his forehead, and noticed the glow of pride on his face. “I’ll like whatever you come up with,” She said.

“Yes, little one,” He leaned up, giving her a soft kiss on the lips. “I love you,” He mumbled against her mouth, causing her thighs to tighten against his sides.

“I love you more,” She whispered, her hands slowly sliding into his hair before their lips began to tangle with another.

“My Lord,” One of the palace servants hurried to the couple, and Danielle glanced over at the young man, noting the tension in her husband’s stance. “I do not mean to interrupt—“

“Yet here you are, interrupting me,” M’Baku scolded, brows furrowed together.

“But King T’Challa requests Lady Danielle’s presence at the palace as soon as possible,” The servant said.

Danielle raised her eyebrows as she placed a calming hand to the back of the Great Gorilla’s neck, stroking his skin with her nails. “I was just down there. Is there another meeting?” She asked.

“He said it was a personal matter, my Lady,” The servant said.

“I see,” Danielle hummed softly before she nodded. “Fine. Can you please prepare my traveling gear?” She requested.

“Prepare for the both of us,” M’Baku ordered, and the servant nodded, hurrying off just as fast as he had arrived.

“T’Challa asked for me alone,” Danielle tilted her head as she looked at the man, his face still steeled in a scowl.

“I heard. However, I do not trust a ‘personal matter,’” M’Baku decided, causing a groan from her wife.

“Seriously, man? T’Challa doesn’t want me. He’s a married man, and I’m a married woman, more importantly,” She laughed softly as she kissed the tip of the man’s nose, laughing a bit more at his scowl.

“I am happy that my displeasure tickles you so,” He lowered his voice in a threatening manner. “We shall see how funny it is when I deal with you later,” Danielle’s laugh died immediately.

She tried not to squeal as she felt his shortened nails sink into her thighs, feeling the force of his grip even through her pants. “Okay, I’m sorry,” She whispered. “I assume you’re coming for my safety, right? I appreciate that, baby, I do...”

“Mhm,” M’Baku raised an eyebrow before he cocked a smirk. “Like I said, you will be sorry later,” He promised, starting off on his walk again with the woman still in his arms.

* * *

 

Upon arriving at the palace, Danielle stepped into the building and took a deep breath, thankful for the air that circulated through the grand foyer. She stretched her arms over her head before looking over her shoulder, staring at her frowning husband, who was holding their bags. “Please stop looking so damn mad. We probably will only be here for a night or two,” She said before she noticed the two Dora soldiers approaching them. “Hi Okoye,” She sang.

“Lady Danielle,” The woman spoke, warmth within her otherwise calm voice. She looked over the woman’s shoulder, and she chuckled. “And Lord M’Baku. Welcome,” She said, sighing softly to herself. “Interesting. Come with me. Your bags will be taken to your room,” Servants came over and retrieved ther bags, and the couple was led by Okoye and her subordinate.

As they quietly walked through the hallway towards the throne room, Danielle looked towards Okoye with curiosity. The woman, usually placid and hard to read, seemed very thoughtful today. “...When did T’Challa tell you?” Danielle asked.

“Excuse me?” Okoye cut her eyes in the woman’s direction.

“You’re like his best friend, in terms of how much you guys spend time together,” Danielle ignored the curious glance M’Baku made between the two women. “So, when did T’Challa tell you?”

Okoye was quiet before she let out a soft huff. “He told me while we had business in New York City,” She explained. “I assume Miss Chanel told you the news, then,” She guessed.

“Yes. At Leah’s wedding,” Danielle explained.

“Yet Queen Zaditu is unaware?” Danielle frowned at that reveal. Leah was going to be pissed.

When the doors to the throne room opened and she noticed everyone in the room, her heart dropped. T’Challa sat at his throne, looking tired and wrung out. Next to him was Nakia, looking a bit confused but nonetheless put together. Erik and Leah sat to T’Challa’s immediate right, while T’Challa’s mother, Ramonda, and Shuri sat next to Nakia. The sinking feeling was all over her body now. Was he going to tell everyone, here? Right _now_?

“There are a lot of people for this to be a personal matter,” M’Baku’s rumbling whisper reached Danielle’s ear, and she sighed a bit before she shook her head at him. She could hear the regret in his voice—he definitely didn’t need or want to be here, and Danielle honestly didn’t want to either.

Danielle and M’Baku were led to sit next to Leah and Erik, and Danielle leaned over to give the woman a quick hug. “I miss you,” Danielle whispered quickly.

“I miss you, too,” Leah said, kissing her temple before the two looked to T’Challa, who stood up to move to the middle of the room. He whispered something to Okoye, and she nodded before she and her subordinate left the room, shutting the doors to the throne room.

“Thank you all for coming,” T’Challa placed his hands behind his back, looking down at his shoes. “I am sure that you are all wondering why I have asked for your presence. Well, I have come upon some rather...unsettling news, and I figured that everyone who matters deserved to know what is going on. Despite all of our differences, we are all family in one way or another. And of course, my Queen,” He looked to Nakia, and Danielle noticed the warm look on both of their faces. They were truly in love, and Dani could only hope that their love could withstand the storm that was the come. “You have been so perfect in your transition into the role as my right-hand. You’ve meant the world to me for so long, which is why it—...” He cleared his throat before he looked down.

“What is the matter, my son?” Ramonda asked with a small frown. “Are you alright?”

“He either cheated or he dying,” Erik mumbled, and a sudden ‘pop’ that resounded through the air caused a soft chuckle from M’Baku.

“I am fine,” T’Challa glanced at Erik with a hard stare, shaking his head. “It’s just that—”

The door suddenly opened, and Danielle’s eyes averted to the area, seeing Chanel with her son Leon near her. And in the woman’s arms was the center of the storm.

Her hair was curly and nearly overtaking her head, with large brown eyes and a smile just like Chanel’s. It was the almost uncanny hybrid of the woman and the King, and Danielle’s heart sunk further.

“Hi Daddy!” She cried out, and Danielle suddenly felt lightheaded.

“Daddy?!” M’Baku and Shuri exclaimed at once.

“Oh, bitch,” Erik rolled his head back against the back of the chair. “Oh, _bitch_ ,” He groaned.

Danielle sighed as she pressed her palm over her eyes, hearing the room suddenly go into a whirlwind of chaos—T’Challa, Ramonda, and Nakia arguing fiercely in Xhosa, along with worried murmurs from the others, then suddenly—

“When! When was this?!” Nakia had taken over control of the room, her usually soft voice hardened with anger.

“It was before you two got married,” Chanel spoke up, because T’Challa was trembling and seemingly angered into silence. Ramonda was holding the child despite her shocked expression, rubbing the back of her head to keep her calm. “If what T’Challa told me was true, you and him weren’t together at first, and he and I—well, we were messing around,” She looked down at her heels, letting out a sigh. “When you said you wanted to bag him, he came to me and told me we couldn’t get down like that no more. We went at it one last time, and well...” She gestured to Ava.

Nakia looked between T’Challa and Chanel before she stood up, chuckling to herself. “Well. That’s fine,” She laughed. “This has to be the most incredible thing you’ve ever done, T’Challa. I must say! You’ve outdone yourself!” She pushed past him to walk out of the room, a sharp _‘Isiyatha!’_ echoing through the air in her wake.

Ramonda passed Ava to Shuri before she smoothed out her dress, her eyes never leaving her son, who was still standing there in silence. “Everyone, I would like a word with my son,” She spoke slowly, with a venomous purpose. “Alone.”

Danielle couldn’t drag M’Baku out of the throne room fast enough. She was barely learning basic Xhosa, but some of the words that woman were using by the time the throne room’s door closed behind them were fierce enough to make anyone tremble. Everyone scurried away from the door, and Shuri broke off from the group, speaking sweetly to Leon and Ava as she took them elsewhere.

“You and you, we need to talk, now,” Leah said as she gestured to Chanel and Danielle, and Danielle looked between she and Chanel, who wouldn’t look at either of them.

“Okay,” Danielle looked towards M’Baku and Erik, who were staring at the throne room doors, both too stunned to even notice the girls. She shook her head and looked back to Leah and Chanel, who were already looking for a room to talk in.

Once they could find a room alone, the three filed in with Danielle left to close the door behind them. As soon as the door closed, she winced at the sound of Leah’s booming voice: “Chanel, what in the actual _fuck_ , my nigga!”

“I know,” Chanel sighed as she sat down at the table that sat in the middle of the room.

“I’m fucking—what? What were you and T’Challa thinking? Did he know about her?” Leah asked.

“Not until recently,” Chanel explained.

Leah rolled her eyes before she ran her hand through her hair, and Danielle just watched with a small frown. It was kind of uncanny, almost scary, of how much Leah reminded Danielle as a lightweight Erik, now. “So, you just kept a baby from everyone? _Everybody_ , for what, two, three years? Chanel, out of anyone I’ve ever known I wouldn’t think you’d pull some shit like this,” She paced the floor as she spoke.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” Chanel frowned as she looked up at the frantic woman. “Listen, I thought about every option I could so that shit wouldn’t blow up. I knew I wasn’t having a fucking abortion, so I decided to just care for Ava by myself,” She sighed. “I only told him because Danielle told me to,” She said.

“You needed to tell him,” Danielle stood firm in her stance. “What you and T’Challa did was careless, but what can we do now? The child is here, now. Us yelling at Chanel isn’t going to change anything either, Leah, so you have to calm down,” She said.

“No, fuck that. I want a gotdamn answer. Why didn’t you tell us? At least we could have been somewhat prepared for this shit instead of looking crazy,” Leah placed her hands on her hips.

“We literally lead three different lives, now. Get off my fucking back,” Chanel snarled. “Danielle off the grid, and you over here playing Michelle Obama with your crazy ass husband. Meanwhile, I’ve become a fucking baby mama. So excuse me if I didn’t feel like bothering y’all with my problems,” She shook her head before sniffing, quickly wiping her face. “Nobody gotta worry about it, though, because soon I’ll go home and he ain’t gotta worry about it.”

“You can’t just keep him from seeing her,” Danielle argued.

“Well she damn well not staying here without me!” Chanel yelled. “And I sure as fuck ain’t letting that bitch take care of my child!”

The room fell silent when the door opened, and Danielle looked back to see T’Challa come into the conference room, eyes reddened and even more worn-out looking than when Danielle had first arrived. His gaze seemed to be fixed upon Chanel, and Danielle looked at Leah before gesturing towards the door.

Danielle and M’Baku spent the rest of the evening in town, mostly because they wanted to get as far away from the palace as possible—the air there was heavy, and it felt as if a cloud had come over it. Even when they returned after dinner, the place felt bleak and cold. The couple returned to their suite for the evening, and after Danielle took a shower and dressed for bed, she tried to take time to meditate while M’Baku was in the shower. Usually, a moment to meditate would calm her jittery nerves, but she couldn’t focus. The whole building was just filled with so much negative energy, and it was affecting hers.

She huffed before she rose up to her feet, walking to the bed before sitting at the side of it, hearing M’Baku’s sigh of relief as he emerged from the steaming bathroom. “I must say, at least the showers are nice here,” He said as he walked over to their luggage, slipping off the towel he had on to slide on his sleeping pants. “What a day, eh? Who would have thought—the Panther King with a child! I would have expected the rabid little American to get Spider Monkey pregnant first,” He gossiped, halting his movements when he noticed Danielle’s silence.

The large man looked over his shoulder and noticed that Danielle was seemingly catatonic, tears running down her face. “Danielle,” He walked to the bed before sitting next to her, frowning a bit as he wrapped an arm around her.

“Today was so stressful,” She finally breathed, and his face softened a bit before he moved to sit her in his lap. He gently tugged at the sleeves of her gown until her shoulders were revealed to him, and he began to massage her shoulders gently. “So much saddened energy,” She sighed as she wiped her tears away.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He cooed before he leaned over and kissed the back of her neck. “I sometimes forget that you can feel the air around you. I am so sorry,” He kissed her skin softly, moving to wrap his arms around her waist. “I am sure things will become better for them, my love. You must not fret for their drama,” He advised.

“It’s hard not to, baby,” She began. “My best friend is...alone, in this. Sure, T’Challa will most likely be there for the child, but ultimately...she’s alone. I can’t begin to understand how that could feel. And T’Challa and Nakia—I feel so badly for them, especially Nakia,” She sighed, feeling more tears fall.

M’Baku hummed softly, kissing her cheek before reaching to wipe her face. “It will be fine, Danielle. With time, they will figure out what they need,” He squeezed her waist before he sighed. “...Is there nothing I can do to soothe you?” He asked, and Danielle closed her eyes when she felt the warmth of his face nuzzled into her neck.

“Just hold me, please?” She asked.

“It is done,” He got up and placed her on the ground before turning off the lamp, peeling the sheets back on the bed before climbing in, allowing Danielle to get in next and curl up against his body. Knowing how warm-natured she was, he kept the covers off and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. “Just breathe and close your eyes. Tomorrow will be a better day for us all.”

Danielle closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of honey, allowing herself to drift off to sleep. That night, she dreamt of fish again. One icy blue fish.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa is feeling it, and so is Nakia.

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Daddy?!”

“Oh, bitch. Oh, _bitch._ ”

T’Challa felt like the world was spinning. He hadn’t slept in over a day, he was on a nearly empty stomach, and his throbbing headache was imminent. Now, as if things couldn’t get any worse for him, the whole family was in an uproar. It wasn’t as if he blamed his child, or even Chanel at this point. It was his fault and if he had to shelter the blame by himself, he’d do that. The King had been trying to find a way to ease his family into the news, and he didn’t see any other real way to do it than to do it swiftly and all at once. He expected the arguments, he expected the anger, he expected the pain. What he didn’t account for, was how much it would hurt to see his family in such disarray. The pain in his wife’s eyes, the anger in his mother’s—he didn’t account for it. And now, he felt as if Erik was tossing him over Warrior Falls, over and over, in infinite loop.

Eventually, the throne room was empty, aside from he and Ramonda. He dared not look her in the eyes; he already could feel the harsh nature of her gaze searing into every inch of his body. “Look at me,” She demanded, and despite his displeasure in doing so, he obeyed. “...How could you, mm?” She began. She was speaking exclusively in Xhosa—he knew that meant she was pissed.

“Mother—”

“Silence,” Her voice boomed through the chamber, and T’Challa fell silent. “I know that your Father and I did not toil to raise you to be someone like this! He weeps from beyond at this news! How could you be so damned careless?” She couldn’t help but to yell, and he had no choice but to allow her the moment to feel her anger. “Did you not think that unprotected sex would lead to a child, or maybe even worse? You knew you were to be married to Nakia; why were you even having outside dealings?”

T’Challa sighed before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “With all due respect, Mother, that reasoning no longer matters. I am truly sorry for bringing this upon you and the family, but there is nothing I can do about it, now. She is almost three, and—”

“Almost three? Almost thr—for Bast’s sake, boy!” She yelled, and he groaned as he tilted his head back. “Do not give me that. How is this woman just telling you that this child exists?” She asked.

“She told me that she did not wish to impede upon my life or my marriage,” He knew this angle was going to come up, and he didn’t want to leave Chanel hanging in such a way. He’d defend her, at least on that front. “Mother, I am aware of the bad decision that I have made. Therefore, I am working to pay the debt caused by it. I want to have a relationship with my daughter; I want us all to be in her life,” He tried to stay calm despite how trapped he felt, and how much he wanted to storm out and walk away from everyone for a while. “I cannot do to her what Baba did to N’Jadaka. I will be even worse if I do, because she is directly from my seed,” He explained.

Ramonda scoffed softly, and sighed before she looked away from her son. “I understand. I am still angry with you, but I do understand,” She said. “You need to talk to Nakia. And we need to prepare. This will gather attention, and you will be scrutinized,” She placed her hands in her lap before she looked back to the man, her eyebrow raising in curiosity. “Are you prepared for that, T’Challa?”

The King shrugged. “I do not have a choice in the matter,” He muttered.

“That is not what I asked,” She scolded. “Are you prepared to be scrutinized by the public—by your wife and your family?” She asked.

T’Challa sighed before he finally broke the gaze, eyes casting downward to the marbled stone floor. “I am not.”

“...You still have so much to learn,” Ramonda lamented, and he noted the lower half of her body as she stood to her feet and moved past him. “And you need to learn it, quickly. For the child’s sake.” The door closed, and T’Challa was alone.

He took a deep breath and exited the throne room, finding the hallway empty aside from a couple palace servants walking about, seemingly unaware of the day’s events. T’Challa tried his best to walk about as normally as possible, but he knew that he needed to talk to both Chanel and Nakia—he’d get to whomever he encountered first, because he knew that it’d be tiring conversation with both. Nakia was rightfully upset with him, and Chanel had been on a vicious defensive mode ever since she arrived in Wakanda a couple days ago. The women were like oil and water, but were now like oil and gasoline, threatening to ignite and explode with T’Challa as their target. He earned the burn, but it didn’t make him any less apprehensive.

He stopped in front of one of the conference rooms, hearing arguing on the other side. Due to the way the building was designed, he’d never actually hear the conversation, but he knew someone was arguing. Three women, to be exact—probably Leah, Chanel, and Danielle. He figured since he was there, he’d deal with Chanel first.

He opened the door, and the women fell silent. His eyes were so fixed upon Chanel that he didn’t even notice Danielle usher Leah out of the room to give them privacy. He looked the woman over, and he sighed before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you still going to ignore me?” He asked, and Chanel looked away from him. “Woman, I am not going to do this with you. We need to talk about where to go from here,” He scolded.

“We don’t gotta do shit,” She spat, and he sighed as he stepped towards the table. “As soon as I can get a ride out this bitch, me and my kids are going back to D.C.,” She said simply.

“Like hell you are. You are not going to just leave with my child and keep her from me,” He sat down at the table before he let out a harsh exhale. “And another thing; you don’t get to be mad at me when this could have been solved a long time ago, Chanel,” He said.

“I told you why I didn’t tell you! And look at what’s happening now; I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” She shook her head. “Listen, once she gets old enough to travel, maybe I can send her here for the summer,” She suggested.

“So, I only get to see her three or so months out of the year? That’s hardly fair, Chanel,” T’Challa was growing exhausted and even more frustrated. “Maybe...you can move here. You, Leon, and Ava,” He suggested.

“I’m supposed to just uproot my life for you, now?” Chanel argued. “And what about Leon’s father? What am I supposed to tell him?” She asked.

“The matter of Leon’s father is not for me to figure out, honestly. And this is not about disrupting your life. Frankly, this has stopped being about you or me since you told me of Ava’s existence. We have got to find a compromise and if not for my circumstances, you know I would not ask you to uproot to come here. So please, stop being so combative with me,” T’Challa had never really seen this side of Chanel before. Given, she’s always had a mouth on her, but to be so damned stubborn...it troubled him a bit. “If you are worried about work, you know I will help you find work here. I will set up the old guest home for you and the children, and I can get Leon in school,” He offered.

“I don’t know, ‘Chal,” She mumbled, and he sighed before he placed a hand upon hers that sat on the table.

“Please give it some thought. I just want to be able to care for Ava the best that I can. Leon, too—he may not be my son but considering things, I am willing to care for him all the same. I want to make sure that you are comfortable too,” He tried to keep his hand still, and resisted the urge to hold her hand, to stroke the softness of her skin. “You are my family, Chanel. I could not possibly feel okay with being a father that works in shifts,” He insisted.

Chanel was quiet, and he watched her thoughtful expression—she refused to look him in the eye. “I’ll think about it,” She mumbled.

He sighed in relief. “That is all I ask. If you decide against it, let us discuss further on how we can make this work, alright?”

“A’ight.”

T’Challa decided that now would be the time to leave Chanel alone to think. Plus, he needed to find Nakia and try to deal with her.

* * *

 

The bedroom was usually clean. Like, the type of clean where you could literally eat off the floor. It was the type of clean that even hospitals would be jealous of—at least, until Nakia had come into it about 30 minutes prior, fury in her chest and a scream lodged in her throat. That’s when hell broke loose. Now, the room had been trashed; the body-length mirror that usually sat in the corner of the room by the archway into the bathroom was now broken and on the other side of the room. There were two small but very noticeable holes in the wall, both lamps from the bedside table were broken and on the floor, and the small lounging table and chairs that sat by the large window had been strewn about, wood crumbles scattered about the floor. The walls were still vibrating from Nakia’s angered screaming, even with the room being silent now.

The cause of the violent tantrum sat at the end of the king-sized bed, bloodied knuckles tightly trembling as she clutched to the sheets, still trying to calm herself down.

Even attempting to pretend that Nakia and T’Challa’s relationship was typical would be playing herself—she knew from early on in their friendship that they were opposites. Sure, opposites attracted to one another, but they still were who they were. The way Nakia saw it, T’Challa had yet to truly see what it meant to struggle. It was why Nakia became a spy for the Royal Family, and why she made it a point to go around the world and do the missions she did. Well, that was what it was initially. Eventually, the worldly experience and the freedom was what kept her going when things got so hard that the cause wasn’t enough. It was what kept her away from the throne. It seemed like the throne came with a level of shackling. However, T’Challa was slowly but surely coming up with ways to balance Nakia’s need for outreach and the needs she’d need to fulfill as queen. She watched his plans come into fruition, so she bought into the idea of queenship...of marriage. Of domestication. Of one day, motherhood.

And somehow, T’Challa snatched that opportunity from her.

The River Tribe were close knit, like one large family; the influence of parenthood and the want for it was subconscious with the members from a young age, so when she was only 12 and T’Challa used to sneak from the palace to visit her, she knew she wanted to be a mother. When she was 16 and T’Challa kissed her for the first time, she knew she wanted to be a mother. When he took her virginity before he went to study at Oxford, she knew she wanted to be the mother of his children. Ever since, she saw herself giving the then prince his first heir. It was her vision of a perfect nuclear family: a strapping young boy who idolized T’Challa, and maybe a girl who would be Nakia’s mirror. Like the mirror in the corner of the room, however, those hopes were smashed now. And Nakia couldn’t be too surprised of who was in on the betrayal.

Nakia sincerely loved Leah, and had a soft spot for little Danielle, too. But she had never much cared for Chanel and as it became clearer that the girl’s crush on the king was reciprocated, she just saw her as bad news. Considering the age difference, Nakia tried her damnedest not to engage in petty jealousy, even if it was just within thought. She tried not to roll her eyes when T’Challa joyously recalled one of the pranks the woman made on him during the exchange program, and she tried to give advice about ‘staying out of trouble with the students’ without it translating too much into ‘stay away from that troublesome girl.’ But now, she was wishing she had been more direct. She was direct about everything else with her husband but at the time, she hadn’t the place to tell him who he could and could not be friends with. She figured T’Challa’s seemingly harmless crush would wean once Chanel returned to America. How wrong she could have been. And now, the heir to the throne was sitting somewhere in the castle, and it wasn’t Nakia’s child. She felt betrayed, although she knew all the facts. She felt disrespected, despite it technically not being cheating. She felt _robbed_ of her chance to give T’Challa the penultimate proof of her love for him.

“...Nakia?” She glanced up, noting the King in the doorway of their bedroom. His eyes darted all over the room and his tone was shaky as he closed the door behind him. “What did you do...” He whispered, and he sighed before he stepped towards her, lowering down on one knee, then lowering the other. “I want to start with apologizing to you. I am so sorry,” He muttered, lowering his head.

Nakia was silent before she stared at the man, feeling his sincerest of sorrow emitting from his body language. Her right hand lifted from the sheets and wiped against her skirt to wipe the clamminess from it, then she swung it swiftly, the sound of palm to skin echoing through the room. It felt good to watch T’Challa’s head sway in response, and she breathed deeply as she watched him rub his cheek, the slightly astonished expression only inspiring her to want to close her fist and punch him next.

“Why!” She finally choked out, and the tears that were burning the back of her eyes spilled out of her eyes. She had been silently thinking of a speech for T’Challa when he came to see her; she’d be strong, she’d think of every insult she could pull out of the book, and she’d do it like a cold and calculated boss. But it all went out the window. “Why!” She shoved him. “Why!” She slid off the end of the bed and began to beat his chest, yelling and cursing. “Damn you! I will never forgive you! You cheated me! You robbed me!” The Xhosa almost seemed incoherent amongst her tears.

Eventually, T’Challa overpowered her and pulled her into his arms, and she cried. She felt his chest tremble, and she sobbed as she continued to beat her fists into his sides, softer and softer until she only had the strength to lay within his arms and weep.

Nakia had woken up some hours later, head hurting and mouth dried. She sat up in bed and noticed the glass of water and two white pills sitting on the bedside table, and at the table, there was a tray with dinner on it. She looked around the room and noticed that the bedroom had been completely cleaned, and the two holes in the wall were already fixed. Looking out of the large window, she realized it was well into the evening hours; the streets below were still somewhat busy, so she was certain that it wasn’t too late into the evening.

After taking the pills, Nakia got out of bed and went to eat her food—she noticed that her knuckles had been bandaged up. By the neat way they were wrapped, she knew T’Challa had the nerve to do it. Merely sighing at the thought of him, she tried to eat as much food as she could stomach. After, she walked out of the bedroom to see one of the Dora standing guard. “...Where is he?” She asked.

“In a guest bedroom. Would you like to see him?” She asked.

With a nod, Nakia followed the soldier down a series of hallways, before she did a curt knock on the door. The door soon opened, and Nakia gulped down a wad of air at the sight of T’Challa, shirtless with steam seemingly radiating from his pores; he had just finished showering. When he met eyes with Nakia, a flash of hope seemed to dazzle within them. “Come in,” He insisted, and Nakia slowly followed him, shutting the door behind them.

The guest rooms in the palace were no bigger than American hotel rooms, and pretty much held the same amenities as one—it was usually for visitors in the palace who didn’t insist on staying in the guest home. It was a recent addition to the palace thanks to Shuri’s suggestion, and Nakia was kind of thankful for it now. She didn’t really see herself wanting to sleep next to her husband tonight.

“Did you take the aspirin I left you? And I made sure they sent up your dinner—did you get it?” He asked, and she nodded.

“I appreciated it,” Nakia took a deep breath before she raised an eyebrow. “T’Challa...”

“I do not know how many times I can apologize for my actions,” He said, coming to stand in front of her. Nakia slid her hands behind her back and stared at his shoulder to make sure she didn’t make eye contact. Warmth radiated off his body, and he smelled like sweet spices. His cocoa-hued skin looked especially dazzling in the warm golden light of the lamp, and it made her want to scream in frustration. She was so angry with him, yet his presence called out to her like a lighthouse in fog. She wanted to run to him, be in his arms, pretend this day never happened at all. “I know you may never forgive me, but I will spend every day trying to make this up to you, Nakia. I swear it.”

“I just want to know some things,” Nakia answered immediately, and she finally looked T’Challa in the eye. She had to, so he’d understand her seriousness. “Did you just not care enough about me to not protect yourself with her? How could you be so disrespectful?” Now that the initial rage was gone, she could properly express herself to him.

“That was never my intention,” T’Challa shook his head. “I will admit that I was caught up in the lusting of it all, and I had forgotten to,” He explained.

“Do you know how dangerous that is? If what you tell me is true, Chanel was also a single woman at the time. She could have been sleeping with other men, who could be sleeping with other people. And you and I have been having sex as well—what if you had given something to me?” She asked, and shook her head slowly. She just barely noticed the slight tick in T’Challa’s jaw, but she decided not to focus upon it.

“I did not realize that either,” T’Challa’s shoulders slumped a bit before he nodded. “I understand—I messed up,” He admitted.

“You’re damned right you did!” Nakia lifted her arms to shove his chest, not too harshly, but just enough to show her frustration. “I was supposed to be the mother of your first heir. But you stole that opportunity from me. Intentional or not, I feel slighted,” She hated admitting that, but she wanted the man to understand how she felt.

“I know. I am so sorry, my love,” T’Challa rubbed his hands over his arms: slowly, rhythmically. It was a nervous tick, and Nakia knew it.

His apology was met with no direct answer. Nakia’s eyes scanned him over before a thought popped into her head. “Also, I believe you should take a DNA test.”

“What?” T’Challa sighed before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nakia, I am certain that she is mine. She looks just like me,” He argued.

“I still think you need to be certain with _facts_ behind it. There’s a lot of babies who look like someone they are not related to,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know you trust her, but I don’t. I never have. And as your wife, I am asking you to do this, so that I can at least come to terms with this.”

T’Challa was quiet for a moment, and he sighed as he placed his hands on his hips. “I will ask her. It will cause more trouble, but fine,” He said before he looked down at his feet. “I assume you will be returning to our room, now.”

“Correct.”

“I know I am not welcome to join you.”

“Correct again.”

“When will I be?”

Nakia raised an eyebrow before she scoffed, turning around to walk towards the door. “Give glory to Bast that I have not considered divorce yet,” She opened the door to the room before walking out, slamming it behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly scheduled program with a visit from unclemonger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered the fluff?!

The palace courtyard was a cross between natural beauty and architectural marvel. The ivy seemed greener here, the air felt cooler as it swept between the plants and concrete. Even the birds seemed to sing a bit sweeter here, and it was Erik’s favorite place when he lived in the palace. It was his secret place of solace when his anger got the best of him, or when he just needed a moment of clarity. He knew it wasn’t really a ‘secret’ place, seeing as it was the very center of the fortress, but it was a place to go when the silence of the guest home became a little too unsettling. It was clear that T’Challa had gained identical use from it, considering how much calmer the man seemed compared to yesterday.

Yesterday actually happened. It was a real occurrence, and the usually unmoved war dog was still shaken by it all.

Erik had a lot of problems with T’Challa, most stemming from N’Jobu’s murder; although he was a bit more understanding now that T’Chaka’s sins did not translate down to his son, he still felt the man was a privileged person. But his biggest problem with his cousin was that thinly-layered envy that he would always be perceived as the ‘good son,’ and Erik would always be the problem child. However, this situation was bringing to light the fact that a good man was still nothing more than a man. As much as the newborn conscience wanted to opt out of allowing Erik to speak his mind, he was still who he was:

“You know, I told your stupid ass not to let this happen.”

“What?” T’Challa snapped out of whatever thoughts he was in, and looked towards the bulky man.

Erik shook his head slowly. “I told you about fucking with them at the same time, didn’t I?” He asked, ignoring the groan from the Wakandan King. “Now look at ya; got a baby by the craziest bitch alive. Just like a nigga,” He scoffed.

“Do you feel good about rubbing this in my face?” T’Challa asked, annoyance in his tone. “If that is all you have to offer, let us continue this walk in silence,” He suggested.

“Any other time you’d be begging for me to talk to yo’ ass. Don’t be salty, cuz,” With a roll of his eyes, Erik looked towards the cloudy sky, still making out the blueness of the atmosphere. “Nakia mad at you?” He asked.

“Extremely. I was welcomed to a wrecked room,” Erik chuckled softly. “And a slap to the face.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up before he pressed his lips into an o-shape, a low whistle slipping from them. “I’ll be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t just slice you with one of her blades on sight. Couldn’t even imagine,” He slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I doubt she would have went that far,” T’Challa insisted, and Erik let out a dramatic laugh.

“You know very little about women to be so fucking smart,” Erik slipped his right hand from his pocket, tapping two fingers against his own temple for emphasis. “Actually, it’s a people thing. Even the most civilized people will become straight savages for the one they love,” He said, and he noticed T’Challa’s thoughtful expression. The men were quiet for a while, before he licked over his lips. “But all that aside...how do you feel about being a father?”

T’Challa’s stance seemed to soften at the question. “I am not prepared, naturally. Most fathers have some time to prepare for the fact that their perspective just became a bit broader. This came from left field, and I am suddenly a father. But I love her already, and that will be my fuel for when things seem too difficult to bear,” He rubbed over his chin before he glanced towards the sky.

“Mm,” Erik didn’t agree or disagree with the statement. His curiosity was sated, however.

“You know,” T’Challa was looking at Erik now, his expression thoughtful. “I wanted everyone to know, but you and Nakia were two people I wanted to know the most,” Erik glanced at his cousin with a befuddled expression, and the Wakandan King graced a smile. “Come with me.”

The two men headed back inside before taking the familiar route to the guest house. The brute slipped his hands back into his pockets, watching the King knock at the door. Eventually, Chanel opened the door, and Erik raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the door frame. “What do you two want?” She asked.

“Do you want a day off today?” T’Challa asked, and Erik raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his cousin. “N’Jadaka was gracious enough to ask to babysit the children today,” No this bitch did _not_ —

“Really?” Chanel and Erik both spoke at once, their eyes upon the man.

“Yes. Chanel might not be here long, and I want her to have a day off. She spends every day with the children,” T’Challa explained. “Plus...I really would like for N’Jadaka to spend time with his cousin,” He gave a small smile, and Erik furrowed his eyebrows.

He wasn’t at all happy about this, but he wasn’t too mad either. It was an odd feeling, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to place a name to it. “Uh, you sure shorty okay with some unknown nigga with her kids?” He came up with an excuse.

“Honestly. Because if something happens to my kids...” Erik scoffed at Chanel’s threat.

“Nothing will happen to them,” T’Challa assured. “I know you two don’t see eye to eye, but this is really important,” He looked between them, and Erik let out a slow sigh.

He knew he was kind of cornered. He _could_ say no, but he’d hear it from his wife later on. “If Chanel say yeah, then I’m down,” He mumbled.

Chanel was quiet before she slid her arms behind her back. “I guess I could have a girls’ day with the ladies before Dani returns to the mountains with M’Baku,” She said.

T’Challa grinned, and Erik rolled his eyes. It was one of those all-knowing grins, as if he had come up with a master plan.

* * *

 

One of the guest bedrooms had been changed into a playroom—it was more than likely that T’Challa made the change upon learning of Chanel and the kids visiting Wakanda. Erik watched silently from the doorway, his dark eyes observing the bright space. He remembered Leon distinctly, and the boy had grown some over the years; his hair was longer, and he was a bit darker, most likely from playing outdoors constantly. He was playing some type of video game on a console he had never seen before—maybe it was one of Shuri’s inventions. Then, at a small table, was the little girl, scribbling against a sheet of paper with a crayon. Erik couldn’t help but to shake his head at how much she looked like a lighter T’Challa, with a head full of curls like Chanel.

“Okay,” Erik looked over his shoulder to see Chanel, throwing her phone into her purse. “They have already had breakfast, so they shouldn’t be hungry for a couple hours. Please don’t let Leon talk you into bullshit, and T’Challa gave me your cell number, so I texted you my number—use it if you need it,” She instructed. “I’ll be back in the evening,” She concluded before she gently brushed past him. “Leon! Ava! Come here a second,” She instructed.

Suddenly, feet pattered against the wooden floor, and two bodies nearly knocked the woman down. “You look pretty, mama. Where you goin’?” Leon asked.

“Well, mama’s going out to hang with Auntie Lee and Auntie Dani. So, today you’re gonna spend time with Erik,” The moment she said his name, Erik noticed Leon look past Chanel, a big grin on his face.

“Mr. Erik! Hey!” He greeted, and Erik smirked as the child ran to him. The two bumped fists before sharing a small chuckle. “You’re gonna hang with us? Cool, we can play video games,” He rambled excitedly.

Erik glanced at Ava, who was peering at him curiously. “Hey lil’ mama,” He said, his usual bass deflated from his tone. He didn’t understand why he felt the need to be gentle with her, but it came to him almost automatically.

“Hi,” She waved shyly.

“Alright, give me kisses,” Chanel leaned down and let Ava kiss the tip of her nose, before she went to hug and kiss Leon’s cheek. “I’ll be back. Behave!” She called behind her, heading down the stairs.

“Bye mama!” Ava and Leon waved before Leon grabbed Erik’s wrist, attempting to pull him into the playroom.

* * *

 

“I’m gonna win, watch!”

“Nah, fuck that, you cheatin’, lil’ nigga!”

“You just salty because I’m better!”

Metal Mario drove on one side of the large flat screen, while King Dry Bones drove on the other, and the room was alive with chatter as Leon and Erik partook in a round of Mario Kart. So far, Erik had beat Leon at NBA 2k18, and Leon had overcome the challenge of Overwatch. Now, the two were trying to settle the score. Two blue shells and a bullet bill ability later, however, Erik was able to pass Leon up by a pinhair.

“Ahh!” Erik laughed as Leon threw his hands up, laughing as well. “Who the king? Me? That’s what I thought!” The Ajéan King boasted.

“Don’t be cocky, bro. Those items helped you win,” Leon shook his head slowly.

Erik sucked his teeth softly, shaking his head before he felt a tiny hand on his knee. He looked over to see Ava standing by his leg, her innocent blinks making his arrogance dissolve. “What’s up, babygirl?” He asked.

She held up a crayon before she tilted her head. “Play?” She asked.

The kids were doing two diferent things, and he knew he couldn’t diss one kid to hang with the other. What to do, what to do... “Mm,” He nudged Leon. “Hey, we gonna color with Ava now. Coo’?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Leon agreed, walking to the console to shut it off.

The three walked over to the small table in the corner, and while Leon and Ava sat in the small chairs, the large man was forced to sit on the floor in the name of comfort. Ava smiled as she passed Leon some crayons, then she passed Erik some before passing out paper. The kids began to color immediately, but Erik observed the drawings that Ava had already attempted. They really didn’t look like anything, merely scribbles, but he decided to ask anyway. “What’s that?” He pointed at one of the pictures.

Ava looked up before she gasped. “Panther,” She answered.

“Oh word?” Erik ran a hand over the top of his head. “That’s your favorite animal, mama?”

“Uh-huh,” She answered.

“She says it’s the best animal in the jungle,” Leon added.

Erik scoffed before he waved his hand. “I guess,” He said, then he pointed at another picture. “What’s this?”

“Fish,” She answered.

Erik picked up a blue crayon, aimlessly drawing against the blank paper in front of him. “You like animals, huh?” He watched her as she nodded, her focus on the paper making him smile a bit. Her little lips poked out as she focused on the art she made was kind of cute. “What else do you like?” He asked.

“Color. I like...barbies,” She nodded. “Blocks!”

“She builds buildings at home with the legos,” Leon commented.

 _Future engineer,_ Erik thought, a warm buzz within his chest. “That’s wassup. What you like, Leon?” He asked.

“Cars, and soldiers, and anime,” Leon listed. “My favorite one is Naruto.”

“That one’s coo’, but you should get into One Piece. Now that one is the shit,” Erik countered.

“Pokemon,” Ava insisted.

“Oh yeah, she _loves_ that show,” Leon nodded. “I watch it with her. It’s cool, too,” He added.

“That still comes on? Jesus,” Erik mumbled.

The room was quiet again, the man just watching the kids color, his thoughts going in and out of frequency. Children were the embodiment of new life, but they only reminded Erik of his past—a past of taking life away. As a contract killer and mercenary, he had a strict rule of ’21 and up;’ he didn’t touch children, and refused to. But as a military dog, he did what he had to do to complete the mission. Sometimes, he had to kill children that were unfortunately used as guerilla soldiers, or those who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Those kills earned scars that were in the most painful parts of his body as punishment. They were the only regrets he ever had in his bloodied past.

“Erik?” He raised his eyebrows at Leon to show he was paying attention. “Since Leah is our auntie, and y’all married now, does that make you our uncle? Or are you our cousin, because you’re related to T’Challa?” He asked.

Erik twisted his lips to the side and shrugged a bit. “Uncle Cousin,” He suggested.

“Uncle Cousin Erik. A mouthful,” Leon chuckled.

“You can say that again,” Erik felt that odd feeling again.

* * *

 

“1, 2, 3, 4...Leon!”

“5!”

“5, 6, 7...Leon!”

“8, Ava!”

“8, 9, 10! Here I come!”

Erik chuckled lightly to himself as he sat in the closet, enveloped in darkness. It kind of comforted him to know kids still played Hide and Seek, so he decided to play along. Besides, hearing the little girl giggle as she ran around the second floor was endearing. “Erik!” She called out in a sing-song voice, and he snickered as he closed his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he was caught.

Suddenly, the door opened, and he lowered his head as he tried to stay concealed in the corner of it. He sensed her coming closer, and before she could make her move—

“Rawr!” He growled, and she let out a scream as he pulled her into his arms, holding her just enough that the illusion of being trapped was set in place. He tickled her sides, and he laughed as her soft giggles and screams filled his ears.

“I found you!” She cheered, and he smiled as he leaned in and nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “We find Leon?” She whispered.

“Mhm. Let’s get him,” He playfully growled, and she giggled as she slipped out of his grip, walking out of the closet.

The two quietly walked around the house before Ava stopped, raising her eyebrows before she grabbed Erik’s hand, tugging at it as she pointed at the closed door to the bathroom. Erik placed a finger against his lips, and she mirrored the movement before she walked to the door, opening it quickly. “Rawr!” She roared, causing the huge man to cackle loudly.

“Man, y’all cheated!” Leon accused, letting out a small laugh as Erik pulled out his phone to check the time. “Looks like you win, Ava,” He praised.

“Mhm,” Erik agreed before he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Lunch time. Let’s go see what’s in this kitchen,” He instructed, and Leon nodded before the two approached him, allowing him to lead the way. Ava’s tiny hand wrapped around the man’s large finger, and he tried not to smile too broadly.

He was kinda starting to like this kid.

* * *

 

Leon yawned as he and Ava sat on the couch in the living room downstairs; Erik had moved the glass coffee table in the corner, and he was in the process of laying blankets and pillows on the floor. “I’m too old for naps,” Leon complained.

“Ain’t nobody too old for a nap, my nigga,” Erik ran a hand over his dreads once he tossed a pillow on to the floor. “You’re gonna wish for naps when you get my age,” He gestured towards the pallet. “And what I say goes today, so you napping. On the floor.”

Leon sighed before he crawled onto the floor, grabbing a black blanket and wrapping it around himself. “You gonna nap?” Leon asked.

“Hell yeah. Y’all wore me out,” Erik yawned and slipped off his boots, neatly placing them by the coffee table. “Come on, princess. You napping too,” He said, watching as Ava grabbed a blue blanket, light blue clouds printed about the soft material.

Ava curled up against the male’s body, and Erik watched stunned as she blinked up at him. “Night-night,” She mumbled.

“Night, Uncle Erik,” Leon yawned.

“Night,” The war dog answered, and the room was silent from then on.

Erik just watched the kids as they tried to drift off the sleep, but his attention was mostly focused upon Ava, who had all but snuggled to his body. He felt that warmth in his chest again, and he let out a small sigh as he reached down to move some curls out of her face. Her chubby cheeks and long eyelashes were almost cherub-like, and he couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by the sight. His family. This was his family, too.

“You’re beautiful. Looking like your dumb ass daddy, but you’re beautiful,” Erik whispered, gently rubbing her back. “You got lucky, though. He dumb, but he a good man. He gonna take care of you and your brother, I can tell,” He paused and felt that odd feeling again. “To think—I had to kill kids once. That shit fucks with me, you know? Knowing that somewhere, there’s a nigga who may be like me who may have to—” His jaw tensed, and he felt his eyes sting. He closed his eyes, continuing to rub her back for his comfort. “But it’s a’ight. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you. Neither one of you. You just gained the biggest defense system the world will ever see. We will always protect you. _I_ will protect you,” He promised, and he sighed before he had the nerve to open his eyes, just in time to see the way the girl’s hand dug into the fabric of his shirt, holding it tightly.

He smiled. He felt that odd feeling again.

* * *

 

“He’s not picking up,” Chanel worriedly muttered as she hung up her phone. Leah and Chanel, fresh from parting ways with Danielle, were heading back to the guest house.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Leah said, running her fingers through her hair.

The two reached the front door, and Chanel unlocked it before she stepped into the foyer, instantly looking around the foyer. She furrowed her eyebrows when she looked into the living room, her worry fading before a small smile crossing her face. “Leah, look,” She whispered.

Leah stepped into the house and stood next to Chanel, the soft coo coming from the woman making Chanel giggle. Laid out on the floor was Erik, Leon, and Ava; Leon was laid on one side of Ava, and Erik was on the other. Ava was cuddled against Erik, latched onto him.

“Hell has frozen over,” Chanel mumbled, holding up her phone before snapping a quick photo. She watched Leah do the same before she watched the woman walk over to them.

Leah lowered to her knees before she leaned over to kiss Leon and Ava on their cheeks, then she kissed Erik on the lips slowly. “Baby,” She whispered, reaching down to rub his cheek.

“Mm?” Erik opened his eyes slowly before he let out a small yawn. “Oh, hey...y’all back?” He sat up slowly and the kids grunted softly as they also roused from sleep.

“Yep. How were the kids?” Chanel asked as Leon meandered over to her, and she patted his back as he hugged her waist. “They weren’t bad, were they?” She chuckled.

“Oh, nah,” Erik yawned before he stood to his feet. “Guess we heading out, Lee,” He assumed.

“Mhm, our flight is in a few hours,” Leah pouted before she scooped Ava into her arms, the young girl giggling as the woman kissed her cheek. “I already miss my babies,” She said softly.

“We miss you, auntie!” Leon came over to her before hugging her waist as well. “Will you come back soon? I still gotta beat Uncle Erik at Mario Kart again! And you still gotta make us cookies,” He insisted.

“Oh?” Leah and Chanel shared a look, smiling at the name that Erik had seemed to earn. “Well, sure baby. When Erik and I have time, we’ll come back to see you,” Leah nodded.

“Alright, say goodbye,” Chanel instructed.

“Alright lil’ man,” Erik and Leon dapped each other up. “Be good for your mama, you hear me?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” Leon nodded.

Erik looked to Ava, who was already reaching for him. He chuckled before taking her from Leah, and he held her in his arms before he kissed her temple. “You be good,” He mumbled.

“Okay,” Ava hugged his neck. “Love you, Uncle,” Her sweet voice made him squeeze her gently.

“I love you too, mama,” He mumbled, passing Ava to Chanel before rubbing the top of Leon’s head. “You too,” He nodded.

“Love ya too,” Leon said.

Chanel was stunned at the sight before her, and Leah was a grinning idiot as she hugged the three, and he nodded before taking Erik’s hand. “Okay, we’ll see you later!” She waved, and once the group said their final goodbyes, The Stevens headed out the house and down the trail back to the palace. Erik seemed to be in his thoughts, but Leah couldn’t stop smiling and looking at him. “I can’t believe it,” She said.

“Hm?” Erik looked over at Leah, and noticed her smile. “What, girl?”

“You have a weakness for kids! It’s so cute,” She laughed, the laugh turning into a cackle when he dismissively groaned. “I’m not laughing at you, but—jeez, you got the magic fucking touch with those two,” She marveled.

“I ain’t got nothin’,” Erik tried not to smile, but it was hard to keep it from view. The odd feeling finally had a name; love. Not the type of love he had for Leah, but love nonetheless.

Maybe he _was_ weak for kids, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Forgotten Wakandans. Also, M'Baku helps Danielle get some sleep. Spoiler: It's kind of terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have written this in 'Chronicle,' but I didn't. Oh well, here ya go. WARNING: There's blood in this.

It was a full moon out; in the African wilderness, the air was stilled and a soft breeze brought a rare chill to the air. In the distance, chants and yells broke into the atmosphere, falling and rising like hills and valleys. A bonfire was lit, and surrounding it were women, all dressed in white and gold. Near the women were men, subdued and quiet, their heads bowed in reverence. There was a trail of torches, stuck into the earth and burning brightly with promise. At the end of the trail was an old woman, dressed in what looked to be ceremonial robes. Behind her was a young woman, bound by her wrists that were held behind her back. Beside her were two other women, guiding her down the path. Once they got to the fire, she dropped to her knees, allowing her bare skin to grind harshly against the dirt. The chanting and yelling seemed to reach a fever pitch, until the old woman held up her arms to the moon, silencing everything.

Crickets and cicadas were the only things chirping in the night now. “Tonight, we honor Era, the Serpent Goddess, by bringing forth a new leader of our tribe,” The woman rasped in eloquent Xhosa. “For many years, we served under a fearless and tenacious woman that has protected and nourished our tribe. With her death, comes new birth,” She nodded towards the woman that sat upon her knees. “Lesedi, daughter of Imani, descendent of Era,” She called upon the woman. “Tonight, you shall be crowned our Queen. Before you are allowed the title, you must give your life to Era,” She instructed.

The woman glanced up towards the full moon, soft brown eyes cold and calculated. “I, Lesedi, daughter of Imani, pledge my life to the tribe of the Serpent Goddess Era,” Her voice carried through the wind. “I vow to protect, nourish, and progress the tribe with everything I possess, down to my dying breath,” She seemed to be reciting it.

“Now, the Princess will now indulge from Era’s most loyal servant to ensure her strength. Who will be willing to serve?” The old woman asked.

Lesedi watched a young man rise to his feet; hair full of dreaded locs and eyes squared upon her demure frame. “I give my blood in the name of Goddess Era, with the permission of the Princess,” He recited.

With a small nod, she tried not to let a smile brace her expression. “I accept your sacrifice.”

The male was ushered towards the old woman, and the women, once standing, fell to their knees. “The legend of Era says that Kungawo, her most loyal servant, gave his blood to protect her purity, to protect her honor, and to nourish her strength,” She unsheathed a blade she had at her waist holster, and she held it tightly in her gaunt fist. “Tonight,” She grabbed the male’s arm, holding it to where she got clear view of his forearm. “The legend continues,” She dug the blade into the man’s skin, and he groaned in pain.

Rhythmic murmurs began, and he yelled out as the blade slid up his arm, crimson leaking from his sun-kissed skin. In the meanwhile, Lesedi’s ties were loosened, and once the old woman finished carving into the male’s arm, the young girl grabbed his arm and took taste of his blood. The scent of copper overtook her senses, and she took three long sucks from his arm. _One for self, one for tribe, one for Era._ It was what she was taught from birth. She pulled away, the male’s blood smeared across her face, and the escorts hurried to bandage the male’s arm.

“By the blessings of Era, I now present to you Queen Lesedi,” The old woman announced, and the tribe began to wildly cheer, their hands outstretched to the heavens. “My Queen, address your people,” She said, her smile wide and proud.

The young woman rose to her feet before she looked to the flames of the bonfire, craning her neck upward to watch the embers embrace the sky above, almost as if they were going to meet the moon. “For years, the Sage Tribe have lived in the shadows, ostracized by our own people,” Lesedi murmured. “All my life, I have watched our tribe move in the darkness. But tonight, I vow to you that the era of darkness will come to an end. The Sage Tribe, the forgotten Wakandans, will be aligned into their rightful place—the golden age is upon us,” She nodded as she looked upon her people, feeling droplets of sweat mix with the blood on her face. “No more will we be casted off to the side for the comforts of Bast. Era would not have had such blasphemy, and neither will I!” She yelled, and a couple women whooped in response. “I vow to you, my loyal people, that the order will be undone, and new order will spring from the ashes,” She clenched her fist, and licked the dried blood from her lips.

“And it will all start,” She smiled. “With the death of the Black Panther.”

* * *

 

Danielle hadn’t slept in three days.

The last time she closed her eyes to sleep, she saw the white flames again. They engulfed Wakanda like a blanket over a body, and the spirit of death seemed to be everywhere. The flames even seemed to reach the mountains, melting the snow and heating the rocks to the point of molting. So much anguish, so much pain. She woke up screaming, and since then she had refused to sleep. The first day was filled with strenuous activity—training, consultations, meetings, exercise, walks through the settlement were just some of the things Danielle busied herself with. The second day was in solitude, too temperamental to deal with anyone. Now, it was day three, and she felt the weakest she had ever felt.

She had already told T’Challa about her dreams, and he had told her to notify him if the dreams continued or worsened; however, she was just frightened at how real it all felt. Sometimes she felt a burn upon her insides, as if someone had set her aflame. Sometimes, she can smell the blood and smoke. She felt insane, as if she was living in a time different from everyone else. The closer she got to truly being able to connect with the spirit world, the more she was starting to go through the struggle. The Shaman of the Jabari spoke of such phenomenon; it was signs that Danielle was coming closer to being able to become the next Shaman. It was her body trying to get used to the power she was possessing. However, she was so frantic about it that she couldn’t sleep.

She had set up some books by the fireplace so that she would have something to read while M’Baku slept, but when she noticed him sit next to her instead of going to the bathroom as he usually did when he entered their quarters, she could feel, albeit weakly due to her lack of sleep, that something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” She yawned.

“I will not go to sleep for a third night without you by my side,” M’Baku’s tone was decisive and final, and Danielle huffed softly as she looked at him. “Tonight, I will figure out a way to get you to rest, and then we will prepare to go to the mainland in the morning. T’Challa needs to hear of your worsening state,” He said.

“’Ku, I can’t sleep. Don’t worry about me,” Danielle huffed before she rose to her feet to grab another book from the bookshelf. She barely got her hands on a book when she felt herself being picked up off the ground. Suddenly, she was being hoisted over her husband’s shoulder. Despite her growing more fit over the years, she was still a fluffy girl, and it always made her wonder how this man could easily carry her about. “M’Baku!” A defiant squeal escaped the woman before she smacked his back.

“That was not a request,” He grunted as he headed towards the bathroom. “We are going to sleep tonight, _together_ ,” He walked towards the bathroom before entering the space, sitting her back on to her feet.

Danielle huffed and crossed her arms as she watched M’Baku run a hot bath, and she noted the fragrant lavender and chamomile herbs that he placed into the water. She watched as he rose to his feet, and she shrunk back as she watched him remove his armor, letting it hit the ground with defined thuds. Soon, she was met with over six feet of muscle, skin, Tribal ink, and the organ between his legs that Danielle tried not to look at for too long. She was overtaken by the faint scent of sweat and outdoors, mixed with that ever-prevalent note of honey when he approached her, and she watched with curious eyes as he moved her arms from her chest and began to undress her.

Soon, Danielle was sitting in the tub between M’Baku’s legs, and he was proceeding to wash the woman’s hair with the shampoo and conditioner she had made—‘ _It makes your hair so soft,_ ’ He always raved. He figured rinsing her hair with the infused water would help her sleep as well. “How do you feel?” His voice was soft, and it made Danielle’s skin tingle.

“Okay,” She said, giving a weak smile as she felt lips on her shoulder. “Very tired,” The phrase came out in a slight slurring.

She heard him hum, and she closed her eyes briefly as she felt the warm water on her head. “Indeed,” He agreed.

Once washed off and cleaned, the two got out of the tub and dried off, putting on some night clothes before they meandered back to the bedroom. M’Baku was good at remembering things, Danielle realized; he went to her hair products and grabbed the curl cream without asking, along with her wide toothed comb and her oversized bonnet. She waited for him to sit on the end of the bed, and she sat between his legs before he began to part and twist her hair. She tried not to fall asleep while he was working, but the whispers he uttered to keep a rhythm with his fingers, and the calming feel of those fingers made her doze off easily.

_The fire. It was everywhere. Bodies seemed to topple on top of one another, and the screams of anguish felt like nails to a chalkboard. Through the smoke, through the flames, were two crowns. A foot stepped on one, then the other with ease, the metal oozing into the earth. And within the flames came two eyes—the eyes of a serpent._

Danielle’s eyes flew open, and she sat up in bed, taking a deep breath to calm her jittery nerves. The room was dark, aside from the glare of the moon shining through the windows. She heard soft breathing from the right side of her, and she looked over to see M’Baku sleeping. She frowned before she placed her palms against her face, letting out a small sigh. That dream was a little different from the times before. It frightened her more than it should have, and she couldn’t help but to lay back down and clutch her husband in her grasp.

“...The dream again?” M’Baku’s sleepy rumble made Danielle curl up closer to him. “It will be okay,” He managed to whisper, and she nodded slowly.

She listened to him clear his throat before she felt his arms wrap around her, his hands planted firmly against her lower back. “I shall stay up with you,” He kept his voice quiet although he seemed more aware of his surroundings now.

“No,” Danielle grunted softly. “Don’t do that. Go back to sleep, I’ll be fine,” She shivered as she felt his fingertips drag up her back.

“It is either that, or I have to put you back to sleep,” His voice dropped an octave, the rumble within his chest making Danielle’s head spin.

“I’m afraid to ask how you mean to do that this late at night,” Dani whispered.

M’Baku chuckled lowly. “I have my ways, dear.”

Danielle hummed softly as she felt his large palms glide down her back, letting out a soft laugh at the tight squeeze to her behind. “Must you do this to me _now_?” The complaint didn’t sound like such—she felt his body press to hers, and she could feel him, already somewhat coming to life as he pressed against her lower stomach.

“If I could, I would do it to you all the time. You know this,” He said, slowly pushing her onto her back. “I never mean to objectify you, but you truly are the most beautiful woman I know,” Eyes falling closed, the words bounced around in Danielle’s head like a ball to a wall, and she could feel heat wipe from the crown of her head to the tipe of her toes. A giggle slipped from her lips when she felt his own against her cheek, as soft as they could ever be. His teeth grazed against her skin from his smile, and she moved her hand to cradle the back of his head. “Do you believe me, or must I show you?” The desire in his tone couldn’t be hidden even if he tried to do so.

“I believe you,” She opened her eyes before cutting them in the Lord’s direction. “I also want you to show me,” She whispered.

M’Baku’s brow furrowed together in his form of surprise; Danielle was never one to verbally ask for his love. She usually just wordlessly gave her permission, but she felt that warmth in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t deny herself of. Not tonight. She couldn’t think of anything more potent than her husband.

His hands moved to the end of her nightgown, slowly pushing it up and over her hips, towards her waist, and eventually over her head with her help. He braced her with light but wet kisses, soft smacks reverbing in the spacious suite. His hand cradled the back of her neck as she indulged in his mouth, tongues and teeth clashing together in justified desperation. The craving for one another always lingered under the surface—Danielle made it a point to learn self-control, and it carried over into her marriage, no matter how much M’Baku made her squirm and sometimes invaded the raunchiest of her thoughts. She figured that she’d be obsessed with his pleasure after he took her virginity on their wedding night and assumed the feeling would eventually wean. Years later, she stil craved. And when it was time to sate the craving, it was always worth the wait. Nonetheless, her husband always seemed to give her his all once he was given the space.

Danielle felt her skin prickle with goosebumps with every kiss to her exposed skin, and she felt the origin of the flames at the core of her stomach. Calloused palms grazed over her skin, gripping and groping whatever it pleased; they lingered over stretch marks, over that small pudge on her tummy. They laced fingers with hers as his mouth murmured sweet nothings. Edging with intimacy was his specialty, but the heat was growing in her stomach, and she could feel her clit twitch when she heard a growl settle within his throat.

“You are perfect,” She heard him whisper, and she lifted her hips as he tugged at her underwear, managing them off her hips and halfway down her thighs. “You deserve everything from me, simply because you exist,” She felt his hand between her thighs, shivering when he parted her lips and felt his middle finger coil around the head of her clit.

Danielle felt herself slip into some sector of reality that felt rare but familiar to her; sometimes she felt like she was out of body, mingling with her man’s spirit in ways that she had never encountered with anyone else. Maybe this was her being in love that made her feel so cosmic, or maybe it was a sign of her power. Regardless, nobody made her feel like this. Nobody could. Her heartbeat was ringing in her head and she sighed once the male pulled his hand back, only to feel the intruding prod of his pointer and index fingers. “Shit,” She hissed, feeling instantly filled with the invasion. She closed her eyes as he dragged his fingers in and out of her, making sure to stay at a slowed pace.

Time that already felt fluid up in the mountains was now liquified in Danelle’s mind; every moment felt like an eternity of him dragging his fingers against the ridges of her walls, the pads of them caressing the deepest spots of her with purpose. His thumb pressed tightly against her clit, and the burning within her body seemed to be overwhelming. “Jesus,” She huffed as her toes curled.

“Come now. You know my name after being married so long, eh?” His tone was playful, a soft laugh coming after he sucked her teeth. His tongue swiped across her cheek, and her walls squeezed in response, the force of the action making a sloppy and wet sound from below. He groaned, and she tilted her head back against the pillow as she began to rock her hips against his active hand.

“Oh my God, M’Baku,” Danielle’s voice squeaked in a desperate moan, feeling the pressure building in her body. “Please, please, please...” She chanted, feeling herself slowly coming apart.

Then, he stopped.

She whined softly upon feeling his fingers slip out of her, and her eyes cut at him as he brought the fingers to her mouth. Latching her mouth around them, she slowly sucked off the juices, making a point to keep her eyes upon him. His eyes were wild as he watched her, saying nothing as he slipped his fingers from her mouth.

Moving to lay between her legs, M’Baku slipped her underwear off the rest of the way before he tossed them to the side, sliding one of her legs onto his shoulder before he nibbled at her inner thigh, eyes half-closed in what seemed to be concentration. His beard felt coarse yet soft against her skin, more giggles of sensual intoxication filling the air. Warm breath tickled against her already weeping center, and her head rolled back with an exasperated moan when she felt his tongue separate her folds. His hands held her hips in place, and she was subjected to the thick and warm organ that rolled around her clit. His lips pressed to her entrance, and she felt the soft sucks of him slurping the juices she did secrete. Every so often the tip of his tongue would slide within her, rolling about against her walls with a pattern that left a slow burning in Danielle’s stomach.

Her tongue grazed over her lips as she placed a hand over his head, gripping the small tuft of hair that she could take grip of. “Shit, ‘Ku,” She hissed, biting into her bottom lip as she watched his head gently rock from side to side. Her other leg slid onto his other shoulders, and he sunk his shortened nails into her flesh. Her body felt like she was burning from the inside out, and the constant friction of his tongue against her was making her lose her mind.

And then, he stopped again.

Danielle could have killed the man, and M’Baku bellowed out a laugh as he rose up onto his knees; the glistening of his beard and his lips made her squirm, but the frustration of the heat in her body was truly getting the best of her. Her nails dug into the sheets below her, watching him with hazy eyes as he pulled her close to him. Undoing the ties to his bottoms, she watched as he pulled his length from them, tapping the tip of it against her middle. He licked over his lips briefly before he pressed himself inside her slowly. Dani felt as if the wind had knocked out of her, and the man had barely even moved within her. With tightened hands on her hips, he inched into her carefully and while it was supposed to help her get used to him, it made the feeling of being stretched and filled almost unbearable. Even with how wet she was, he was so much for her to take. “’Ku,” She whined.

“I know,” He breathed. “Just a little more.”

She reached to slowly dig her nails into his arms, and he grunted once he finally began to stroke into her. Her eyes seemed to dart about the room, unable to meet his intense gaze as he guided her against his length. Dani arched her back off the bed, letting out a series of moans as she struggled to take him in. With time, she could feel a sense of relief when she began to mold around him, the slight pain transitioning into pleasure that was quickly becoming overwhelming. The sticky sounds of her desire seemed to grow more intense, and she looked down to see the creamy mess she left behind, and she gasped as she tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering close. Eventually feeling the weight of his body on top of hers, her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into her.

“M—...shit,” Dani whimpered as she felt one of his hands leave her hip, feeling the slight dip in the bed near her head. Lips latched to her neck, and she let out a soft cry when she felt his teeth dig into her skin, the bite slow, harsh, and purposeful.  “I’m...I’m gonna...” She stammered.

“Do it,” She heard him whisper, and her walls squeezed tightly as she felt his rhythm start to falter.

He pushed into her wildly, and she let out a scream as she latched onto his body, trying to find an anchor for the weightless numbing that coursed through her veins. Her eyes rolled back, and the spurts that sounded off from her middle soaked the sheets under them. She yelped out helplessly as she felt the mixture of her own force and his own as he let off inside her, groans and growls escaping from him. Eventually, he pulled out of her and spread her legs, staring down at the way their love seeped from out of her. “Nothing better than seeing you filled up, my love,” He whispered hoarsely, and Dani frowned at the shocking sensation she felt in her body in reaction.

“Don’t say that,” She felt her face grow hot, and the Lord chuckled as he got out of bed, retreating to the bathroom. “You’re going to get me pregnant one of these days, fucking around like that,” She warned.

Danielle laid her head against the pillow, yawning as she felt her body already trying to shut down for the night. “That is a plan I can get behind,” She heard M’Baku laugh, and she scoffed as she closed her eyes.

“What a piece of work,” She mumbled to herself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside casualties.

Israel James was an average man in a very unique world. Growing up as an only child to military vets, he didn’t know much about life outside of what he considered normal. The most abnormal thing in his life was his teenaged fatherhood, and even that by current standards was becoming normal. The fact that he was only seventeen when he became a father meant very little to him; at the time, he loved his girlfriend and would care for his child however he could. Even when their union quickly unraveled, he knew he’d love that girl forever. Even when he drafted into the army and went away for a year, he still loved her dearly. Even when he returned and enrolled into school, he still loved her. Even after the countless curves she’d give whenever he would even mention reuniting, he still loved her. It was stupid, and he knew it, but still...he loved her, dearly. Chanel Richards just had that effect on people.

Israel’s mother always said that the girl had grown to be poisonous—Israel didn’t see it that way, but more of the woman doing what she wanted to do, had to do to survive in a world where black women were undervalued and sorely oppressed. Chanel knew her worth and although she wasn’t perfect, she was herself and unapologetically so. Older women didn’t understand it, women her age often envied it, and men tried to silence it often. Meanwhile, it was what drew Israel to her to begin with. She was the flame that motivated him, and the fact that he saw that same flame within their son was what made him always have a place in his heart for her. It was what he’d always respect about her, if for nothing else.

So, one could understand how jittery he was to see her all over the pop culture news blogs.

 _Wakandan Scandal,_ TMZ said. _T’Challa’s Baby Mama Drama,_ The Shade Room said. The boys around the barbershop that Israel often visited was buzzing about the news, and Israel’s parents were on the phone with him for hours about it, telling him that they had warned of how unsavory she was to begin with. Israel knew plenty about Ava, and about the fact that Chanel didn’t really want anything to do with the father. He figured it was a relationship gone sour, but he would have never guessed that she had birthed African royalty. He also didn’t expect the bald women at his house when he got home from work, demanding his presence in Wakanda. He had never been outside of D.C. aside from his active duty, and now, he was on a new-aged ship that was most likely made from the Vibranium he was hearing about so often, now.

He had a headache once they crossed the barrier into Wakanda. He was overwhelmed as fuck, and that was an understatement.

The buildings were unlike any architectural design he had ever seen. The air was clear as he breathed in, and the people were _beautiful_ , so much so that it almost seemed unreal. Even in his polo and slacks, he felt terribly underdressed. The man was never nervous a day in his life, but he was fidgeting as he walked through the grand halls with who had to be the King’s two most trusted warriors.

“You are nervous,” One of them said, and he looked to her as she walked with a stride so confident that it bested even the mother of his son. “Don’t be. Our King comes in peace, as long as you do,” Her eyes cut in his direction—that was a ‘ _don’t fuck with us_ ’ look if he had ever seen it.

And soon, he was in a grand room with large windows and a long table: possibly a conference room, but elegant enough to possibly be a dining room. He never thought he’d be in a place this lavish looking—the killer was that he knew there was no architecture like this in the rest of the world. This was a different type of wealth.

“The King should be around in a moment. Please enjoy the refreshments,” The warriors left Israel alone in the room with a table filled with pastries and fresh-squeezed juice.

Israel rubbed over his beard with a small sigh before he walked to the table, taking a seat before grabbing a small plate and using the tongs to grab a red-berry filled pastry. He was in the midst of ouring himself a glass of orange juice when the door slowly opened.

“Daddy!”

He glanced up, and the first smile that had graced his face all day appeared as Leon ran over to his side of the table. “What’s up, man?” Israel pulled Leon into his arms before kissing his forehead. “How you been?”

“Good,” Leon clung to him, his round little face glowing and as happy as it could be. “How long are you staying? You should stay a while, Wakanda is so cool,” He raved.

“Leon, don’t overwhelm your father,” Israel glanced up to see Chanel had entered the room. She still looked the same as she did in high school, slight aging aside. Her shortened curls used to be a full mane of hair, too. He could still remember the day she decided to go bald... “Hi, Israel,” She greeted, and he flashed a small smile.

“Hey there,” He couldn’t fight that little racing heartbeat within his broadened chest, nor could he stop himself from biting his lip at the sight of the woman. She was always so put together, so fine to him.

Then, the reason why he was here arrived in the room, and he immediately felt a way.

King T’Challa Udaku, the leader of Wakanda—the man had a powerful name and now, a crazy reputation to go along with it. Wakanda’s current public renaissance, the uprising of its sister country, and now this whole Ava situation was attached to the man’s name. Still, he seemed to possess the confidence and swagger of someone who didn’t have the world on his shoulders now. And in his arms, laid his child. Now that Israel could see it for himself, he felt...odd. Ava looked exactly like the man, except she was a little lighter in the shade. She had Chanel’s smile but if not for it, it would seem as if T’Challa spat the girl out alone.

“Good morning,” T’Challa greeted, polite smile in check as he took a seat. “Before we begin, I figured we could have a little breakfast,” He suggested.

And that’s what they did—the children chattered to Israel about what they had experienced so far in Wakanda while everyone ate pastries and drank juice. Israel got to hear about the animals they saw, the things they had learned, and hanging out with their ever-expanding family. T’Challa had a young sister who was a literal genius, Chanel’s friend Danielle was apparently here too—somewhere with her robust-sounding husband in the mountains—and their new dual Uncle-Cousin was also the monarch of his own country; he remembered seeing that in the news. He served some army time with that man, so it was an odd thing to say.

Everything about this family dynamic was layered and odd. But he figured that would be the result of such odd circumstances.

Eventually, the children were carted off to be in care of their temporary teachers, and Chanel, Israel, and T’Challa sat in a room together in complete silence.

T’Challa cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter, looking to ease the tension that sparked between Israel and Chanel. Israel hadn’t looked away from Chanel yet, and although there was clear love in his eyes, there was an unadulterated anger, as well “Well, I am sure you have questions,” The King finally spoke, and Israel’s gaze snapped to him in an instant. “I figured we could all get everything we need, right here, right now,” He suggested.

“Great,” Israel’s sarcastic slurring came out without much effort, and Chanel sucked her teeth. “I need an explanation before anything. From the beginning,” He ordered.

“When a man and a woman love each other very much,” Chanel began, and Israel’s eyes narrowed slowly. “What do you think happened, Israel? We fucked, a baby was made,” She crossed her arms. “You’re not here for all that,” She dismissed.

“Then what am I here for?” Israel looked to T’Challa, hoping to get a better answer from him.

“Well, Chanel and I have been discussing how to handle such a complicated situation,” The King began. “One of the options was that she and the children would move here,” He said.

“...And what about me? I just don’t get to see my son anymore?” Israel looked to Chanel. “Chanel—...”

“Don’t start. I brought that up. I wouldn’t do you that way,” Chanel sighed softly. “That brings in other options, Israel. You can move here as well,” She tapped her nails against the tabletop. “Or, if you don’t want to move, T’Challa will grant you free entry and travel to and from Wakanda. You can come see Leon whenever you like,” She said.

Israel just stared between the two of them, feeling excessively cornered. He really had to take the time and sit back, and lament over the facts given to him. Either way, his life was now being pulled in a different direction because of their actions. He would either be forced to uproot his life completely, or risk being away from his son a lot more than he was willing to accept. He never even thought about being a deadbeat father when Leon was born—despite he and Chanel’s decline into separation, he knew he’d never not be in his son’s life, and tried everything he could to be a good example of a man for him. Now, he was being forced with a choice. Either suck it up and move out of the country, or have the possibility of another man being his son’s father figure. He didn’t know enough about T’Challa to like or dislike him, but Israel would be damned if he ever had to let another man raise his own child.

“This is some bullshit,” He spat. He was usually able to control his temper, but he felt justified in showing it, now. “So, I have to deal with an ultimatum because this nigga didn’t feel like putting a condom on when he fucked you?” Israel laughed bitterly.

“Israel,” Chanel warned.

“Nah, fuck that—this is fucking insane, Chanel. You’ve done a lot of insane and questionable things, but I know you better than this. You can’t look me in my face and tell me you didn’t think for one second that this was a good idea,” He _knew_ Chanel. Maybe T’Challa knew Chanel to an extent, but Israel knew Chanel better than any of these Wakandan royals or even her friends. Chanel was always so careful with sex—for Christ’s sake, Leon was only alive because Israel’s condom broke and they didn’t know until the damage was done. T’Challa being able to impregnate Chanel was a conscious choice on both ends, and it pissed Israel off for so many reasons. What was so fucking great about this guy that he got the privilege...? “Did either of you think of the consequences when you did what you did?”

“Evidently not,” Chanel snapped at him. “Make the fucking choice already, Israel. I don’t have time for a fucking lecture!”

“Nigga, _I_ got time. And you’re gonna listen to me!” He yelled.

“Is—...”

“Chanel,” T’Challa’s voice seemed to overpower the argument, and the two stopped to look at him. “The man is in pain. Let him speak,” Israel was surprised that T’Challa was being so impartial, but then again, he was probably taught to be that way.

Clearly, Chanel wasn’t appreciating T’Challa allowing Israel’s ranting to continue, and Israel knew it was because she hated being in the wrong. Even as a young girl, Chanel would walk away from a situation or cut a person off before admitting that she made a mistake or was in the wrong for something. Usually, Israel would just let her cool off when they had an argument and they’d be back to usual business before long. This time, he couldn’t let her off the hook. “Chanel, I can’t even put into words how I feel about this shit right now. But for lack of a better explanation, it’s fucking stupid. Now you just forcing me into some shit I don’t wanna do. You know I don’t wanna be away from my boy, but what the _fuck_ am I supposed to do out here?” He asked.

“We have plenty of work here in the country, if that is what you are worried about. And I do not oppose you staying in my guest home until you can find a place of your own,” T’Challa offered.

“Thanks, Your Highness, real sweet and all, but I don’t take handouts,” Israel shook his head slowly.

“Look, we’re trying the best we can to make this a comfortable situation for everyone. Stop being fucking difficult,” Chanel frowned.

“What, because I just don’t want to yield to whatever you ask me I’m difficult now?” Israel tilted his head before he nodded. “Bet,” He stood up from the table. “Gonna take a walk,” He could feel that sick anger in the pit of his stomach, and he needed to be as far away from this woman as possible.

“Israel,” Chanel moved behind him, and he damn near shoved her off him.

“Don’t touch me,” He warned. “Just—stay away from me,” He walked out of the room before slamming the door behind him.

He seemed to walk through the hallways of the palace aimlessly before he found himself outside of it. He walked farther and farther away from the fortress, and down into the city. The streets were bustling with people, both Wakandan and not.  Since opening the country to the public eye, it seemed that they were getting a bit of tourism coming through the country. Evidently not a lot, because nobody seemed bothered by their presence, nor was there an overwhelming or overbearing feeling of outsider influence. Israel took in the sights, smells, and sounds of the world around him. It was a beautiful place, but how would he fit in here if he decided to move here? He stuck out like a sore thumb, and he honestly just didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t home. He had barely been outside of D.C. and when he was on duty, he barely ever left the base. Missions were not happy memories for him either so in his mind, D.C. was all he knew.

He slowly entered a bead store, already sweating a bit from the heat. The soft music and bright colors seemed to perk up his spirits, and he was quietly looking at the different colored beads that hung from the walls and sat in wicker bowls.

Suddenly, he was being spoken to.

He turned around and noticed a woman, dressed in shades of green. Her hair sat on her head in a neat bun of dreaded twists, and her dark brown skin almost seemed to shimmer. Her smile, warm and welcoming, instantly made Israel smile as he ran a hand over his beard. _Damn,_ was all he could think as he took in her beautiful presence.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, shaking his head. He was certain she was speaking her country’s language. “I don’t understand,” He said.

“Oh! You are American,” She shook her head. “Welcome to my mother’s shop. I asked if I could help you with anything,” She repeated

“Ah, nah—I was just looking around. Is that cool?” He asked.

 “Well, sure. I’m certain you’re in to escape the sun,” She chuckled before she walked over to the cashier stand, grabbing something from behind the counter. “Water?” She sat a bottle on the top.

“Thanks,” He took it before uncapping the bottle. “You look familiar,” He raised an eyebrow before he pressed his lips together, then he snapped his fingers. “You’re the Queen, right?” He asked.

“That’s me,” She smiled, and he did as well. So infectious. “Queen Nakia of Wakanda, at your service.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Israel held out his hand, more lecherous thoughts aside now that he knew he was face to face with T’Challa’s other half. “Israel,” They shook hands. “I’m actually kinda a part of your family,” He said.

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh! You must be Leon’s father,” She nodded. “He’s a nice boy,” She complimented.

“Thank you,” Israel was curious now. As he was affected by this situation, Nakia must have been ten times over, seeing how she was married to T’Challa. “...How you holdin’ up with all this mess?” He asked.

Silence followed, and a small chuckle left the Queen’s lips. “Honestly?” She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes telling a story deeper than her lips would admit. Israel knew that nothing she could say would compare to the sadness in her eyes. “It’s harder than I thought it would be,” She nodded before pressing her fingers against the beads on her wrists.

Israel watched in awe as a projection of numbers seemed to materialize from the beads, and she began to do facts and figures with the numbers. Wakandan technology was something else! “I feel you. To know that the one you love just—...” Israel had never admitted to anyone that he was still in love with Chanel, and he found it odd to be so candid with Nakia. But she was in the same boat as him. Of course, she’d understand his plight.

“Yes,’ She hissed lowly before she ended the projection, staring at Israel with slightly drooped shoulders. “At least no one knows who you are. Cherish that luxury. The whole world knows my name, and now, the whole world feels as if my husband stepped out on me. It is not the case, considering the timeline, but I still feel so...robbed,” She frowned.

Israel watched her roll her shoulders before she shook her head, seemingly refusing to stew in the emotions that seemed to be inside her. “Is that why you’re here and not in the palace?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“I usually come here to help my parents. But it doesn’t hurt to have somewhere to go when things are tense,” She looked up at him, brandishing another smile. This one wasn’t so natural...more forced and convincing. “What about you? Why are you here from America?” She asked.

“I’ve been backed into a corner,” Israel sucked his teeth, soon reminded of why he was so mad to begin with. “Either I have to move here, or risk losing valuable time with my son because I can’t always be here,” He rubbed at his temple. “I mean, dude’s being generous—he’d give me free travel rights, but do you know all I’d have to do just to get here? Take time off, consider traveling time, and a few days with my son in between what may be weeks? Months? It’s unfair,” He explained. “And even if I decide to stay here—where would I stay? Where would I work? I don’t want any handouts from that guy,” He shook his head.

“Don’t think of it as a handout. T’Challa is just being nice...as usual,” She shook her head. As mad as she was at her husband, she knew his heart was in the right place in trying to make everyone comfortable. That was slowly serving to be his curse, however. “But I can understand why you don’t accept help from him. What if—what if I give you the help? Would it be better?” She asked.

“How do you plan to help me, exactly?” Israel raised a brow.

“Well, I know my mother could use another helper around here when I cannot be with her,” Nakia perked up a bit as she spoke. “Sometimes, she needs to get things on display that she can’t reach in her age. And a man around here would make her feel safer,” She said.

Israel’s uncertainty must have been obvious, because the Queen was now standing in front of him, a reassuring expression in her eyes. “I don’t know, man. This is a big decision for me to make,” He mumbled.

“Think of it this way,” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’d be doing this for Leon. Forget about T’Challa, forget about...that woman,” Israel had to chuckle at Nakia’s clear disdain. “Forget about what everyone else wants from you. Think of the child. He needs you,” She explained.

Israel was quiet as he mulled over the thought. Leon needed him, and he knew it. That’s why he was so conflicted about what to do and how to go about it. He just wanted his son to be happy, and if staying here would make things easier for the kids, then maybe...

“Tell your moms to hold that spot for me until I can get settled.”

Nakia grinned before she nodded. “Ah! Good man. Listen, if you also need somewhere to stay that isn’t the palace, my tribe could also use some good men...” She smiled, and Israel raised a questioning brow before chuckling.

“Oh, you’re just gonna suck me into this, huh?” He smirked when she let out a childish giggle.

* * *

 

Shuri’s day had been routine since she was old enough to remember it. She woke up and went through her usual morning routine of hygiene, breakfast, school, homework, and lab work, followed by a good night’s sleep before doing it all over again. Royal affiliation aside, Shuri was as normal as a person could be in such a situation. She was close to her parents, often bickered with her older brother, and tried to explore who she was as a person, and who she would soon become as a young woman. She was just a normal teenaged girl at the heart.

Then, things started changing.

One day, she stopped receiving the good morning kiss on the cheek from her father. One day, she started seeing her brother less and less, until he went from just being her brother to being Her Majesty. One day, a madman came busting down her down, calling himself family—giving himself birthrights that she still felt were undeserved. One day, she had to fear losing her brother, too. And now, she had to deal with the results of dumb decisions her brother made. She didn’t blame the children involved; they were just kids, they didn’t know any better. So Big Cousin Shuri had been putting on a face for those kids. She was the fun cousin who was teaching them everything she knew about science and technology, and giving them plenty ammo to use on their father-slash-step-father. She would keep on a brave face, for them, for her mother, who taught her how to stand tall in the face of adversity.

But when she was alone, she cried. And she cried. And she cried.

She never really got a chance to really let go of the loss of her father—T’Chaka’s death was so sudden, and it was so hard on both her and T’Challa, who were so close to him. It felt like a story unfinished for her, and his absence was felt even more as things were starting to advance forward. T’Challa had a whole wedding, and now a child without T’Chaka’s physical presence, but at least he had him for things Shuri would not. The two were just beginning a relationship together as she was growing into a young adult and she just felt like it was ripped from her so suddenly. As if that wasn’t enough, everything else was piling on top of one another.

Having Killmonger as a cousin was one thing. Now, she had two more, and they belonged to a woman Shuri wasn’t sure how to feel about.

Chanel never did any harm during the exchange program; obviously, Shuri was far closer to Leah than either of her two friends. She had no malice towards either Danielle or Chanel, but she just never really got the time to know them well. She knew Chanel and T’Challa had a friendship, but she never really thought of it as more than that. Apparently, the one time she _needed_ to be nosy was the one time she wasn’t intuitive with her brother’s aural language towards the woman. Now, she was certain that she could feel a tension between them, amongst a fierce need to protect from T’Challa’s end and a constant running away on Chanel’s. Maybe no one else felt it but her, but Shuri knew feelings when she saw them. Her brother didn’t have it in him to step out on Nakia, but she could feel that he felt a lot of things for Chanel. So now, Shuri had to figure out whether she was worth getting to know out of loyalty to her sister-in-law. Maybe it was childish to think that way, but Shuri was a child—an almost grown child, but still a child. Besides, that’s just how she was. Her loyalty was fierce.

But still, this was all a lot for her to bear. It was her brother’s problem, but it always hurt to hear some of the girls at school whisper about how the Royal family was now a worldwide shame, that T’Challa wasn’t fit to be a real king after all. Lately, Shuri had been lashing out at people in the name of defending her brother’s name. However, today, it went physical when the girl she punched went as far as insulting the child. Shuri wasn’t having that—Ava was innocent, no matter how dumb of a situation T’Challa had placed himself in.

And that’s why today, instead of being in the lab doing what she loved, she was banished to her room. Ramonda said she could leave if she issued an apology to the girl, in which Shuri refused. She knew how her mother was, so she decided she had better get comfortable with those four walls.

The bedroom, much like the rest of the palace, was lavish and looked like a typical girl’s room—books on shelves, posters of American pop singers and rappers—mostly Beyoncé—her desk with the computer she put together herself, and an old toybox that was now filled with tools and trinkets she used every day. One of the walls was completely made of glass, giving her a panoramic view of the city below. She would be content with the alone time. It’s not like she had many friends. It was becoming slimmer now that her brother was dealing with this scandal.

 _What a dummy. A complete dummy,_ She thought to herself before she sighed, laying back against the bed with an audible flop.

Her Kimoyo beads vibrated on her wrist, and she twisted her lips to the side before she sat up, tapping her fingers against it before she watched an image project before her. She could have died at whose bust materialized. “What do you want?” She had the nerve to hang up on him.

“Chill, Princess,” N’Jadaka’s voice, velvety and poisonous to her ears, softly sounded throughout her bedroom. “Just checkin’ up on you,” Shuri raised an eyebrow before letting out a snort.

“Yeah, right,” She mumbled. “You know T’Challa’s frequency ends in 2, not 5,” That had to have been it. Those two boneheads were trying the whole ‘friendly’ thing, so she assumed he was trying to call T’Challa.

“You don’t think I know that, little girl? I meant to call _you_ ,” He snorted afterwards, and Shuri dropped her shoulders before sighing a tad. “You not in your lab, Dexter?” He teased.

“Evidently not. I’m in my room,” She walked towards her desk, taking a seat in her swivel chair.  “...On punishment,” She huffed.

“What? Why?”

“Punched a girl in the face today,” He laughed heartily, which instantly brought an angry glow to her cheeks; this was so embarrassing. “Shut up! It’s not funny—she was speaking crazily about Ava, so I punched her.”

N’Jadaka’s face took on a thoughtful expression, his laughter dying down until that smug little smirk settled upon his lips. “Oh, yeah? She got what she deserved then,” He shrugged.

“I know!” Wait, did he just _agree_ with her? “Wait, you’re just glad I punched someone,” She frowned.

“That,” She snorted at him. “And the fact that they shouldn’t be clownin’ no baby. Your brother a dumbass, but it ain’t got shit to do with her. You should’ve punched her ass,” He reasoned.

Shuri was kind of surprised that Killmonger could see things from her point of view. It kind of...comforted her? “Yeah,” She said simply, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Speaking of,” He cleared his throat. “You been a’ight with this?” He sounded uncomfortable with saying it, and she could tell.

“Listen,’ No, she hasn’t been fine. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. She didn’t know what to feel yet felt everything all at once. And he was the _last_ person she wanted to vent to about it. “You don’t have to pretend to like me just because you and my brother are on okay terms,” She decided not to word it as ‘I will never like you, don’t call me again.’

“This isn’t about me pretending to like you,” He sighed loudly before he shook his head. “Princess...I owe you an apology.”

Shuri laughed. She just flat out laughed. “Are you fucking with me?” She barely uttered the word ‘lie’ in front of her elders, but in N’Jadaka’s presence, he got no ladylike courtesy from her.

“Hell nah. I don’t apologize for shit, but I feel like I should to you,” He said, and Shuri’s laughter died a bit. He was a man who did what he wanted without regret, so she could believe he was feeling enough remorse to apologize. Then again, he outright told T’Challa that he lied amongst other things just to get to Wakanda. She wasn’t certain what to believe.

Shuri thought it over for a moment before she shook her head. “Did you apologize for those you killed to get to me and my brother? Did you apologize for those lives?” She argued.

“This isn’t about them. I can’t directly atone for that shit now—they’re dead,” N’Jadaka was deadpanned as he spoke. “I can’t get forgiveness from corpses. And, unless you suddenly became the God I serve and didn’t tell a nigga, I don’t have to ask _you_ for forgiveness for that, either. I can, however, apologize to you for what I put _you_ through,” His words sliced a bit into the child, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was her being sympathetic—she knew his issues with her family ran a bit deeper than she probably could even understand. “Take it or leave it, Princess. I’m not here to beg you. I just want to start over and have a connection with my cousin, because we’re both trying to process what’s happening with T’Challa right now.”

Shuri stilled even more at the mention of the elephant that everyone seemed to be in solidary confusion about, and she frowned a bit as she looked away from the projection. She huffed softly at the thought of feeling so confused and alone with growing pains, and now being offered with a vessel of comfort. Why did it have to be _him_ , though? “N’Jadaka,” She huffed.

“Shuri,” His voice sounded a bit softer now. Almost reassuring. “I ain’t forcin’ you to do shit. I just—you know, if you need to talk to somebody that ain’t one of them stuffy ass niggas, just call me if you want to, okay? Or Lee, you know she all down for the girl talk,” She tried not to smile at the offer he was making. He really did sound sincere. “Just think about it.”

His image faded, and Shuri was alone in the room again. She pulled her legs into the chair, pulling them against her chest as she stared out the window, seeing the sun setting over the city. The gold and orange hues brought her no solace, however. She once again felt this loneliness, and she really couldn’t go to anyone about it. The one person reaching out his hand was with a hand made of proverbial blades.

But still, she was thinking about taking it, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long. You know how these dry spells can get.


End file.
